


Frassino

by virberos



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Abuse, Background DanCre, Background Vergil/OC, Cinderella Elements, Demons don't exist in this world, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Fae & Fairies, Fairy Tale Elements, Fake Names, V is his own character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-18 04:01:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 28,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28986027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/virberos/pseuds/virberos
Summary: Once upon a time, a servant and a princess fell in love.And the songbirds sang in the boughs of the ash tree.
Relationships: Kyrie/Nero (Devil May Cry)
Comments: 38
Kudos: 23





	1. Son of the Ash Tree

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Lavender's Blue](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27611782) by [BuddingBriar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BuddingBriar/pseuds/BuddingBriar). 



Nero blinked awake at the rising dawn, peering through the tiny window in the kitchen. He let out a grumble as he slowly stood, stretching to force himself awake. He was met with brick and stone, the hearth of the kitchen cold and dusty from the ashes. He tossed some logs into the hearth and lit them, coaxing the flames to rise. Standing up, he walked out of the kitchen. He swiped a wicker bread next to the door as he made his way to the back, where a small collection of farm animals were kept. A small gathering of chickens, a black cat, a raccoon (who was more content with just sitting in the sun than causing havoc for some reason) resided in the tiny yard. Entering the coop, he smiled at the laid eggs for him. That would provide well enough for breakfast and lunch and he could make meals involving eggs that didn’t taste so breakfasty. 

“One...two…” He murmured as he picked up the eggs, placing them in the basket. “Three...four...five...and six.” He looked down at the eggs before back to the raccoon, who just waddled over to him. “No, these aren’t for you.” He said, lifting the basket away from the raccoon. “Unless  _ you _ ate some.” He growled. The raccoon just looked at him before walking away. As much as he hated being mean to the raccoon, he didn’t like receiving the wrath of the lady of the house: Mariza Guinta. Nero looked back down to the six eggs in the basket before standing up and leaving the coop, the raccoon making its home in the tiny stables attached to the pen. Nero dipped into the kitchen to check the flames and set the eggs down before returning outside to the stables. He opened the stall door to let out the only horse that lived in the stables: Fir. 

The old mare trotted out of the stall into the paddock, her dapple grey coat rippling with each step she took. Nero pulled out some gloves, put them on, and took a pitchfork. He stepped inside the stall and began to pull out the soiled hay to be made into compost. Once the soiled hay was pulled into a pile, he put in fresh hay. He glanced around, noticing the black cat sitting on the stall door.

“Hello Shadow.” Nero greeted. He had a few friends he could confide in but they were all in town, too far away from Lady Guinta’s estate. He only had the animals to talk to, something Lady Guinta always scolded him for. It wasn’t his fault he couldn’t talk to her son, Ansaldo, because he was either in his room or in the basement with his alchemy experiments. Not to mention, the only time he tried, he remembered the beating he got from her for even daring to try and befriend her only son on his own initiative. Despite the beating happening when he was only twelve, the iron rod she used to do so caused such pain he still vividly remembered it. 

Once he was finished with Fir’s bedding, he leaned over to check up on the other stall: the raccoon’s impromptu home. While he didn’t change out his bedding as often as Fir’s, he made a mental note to change it out next week. Returning his attention to Fir’s stall, he stepped out to take care of the soiled hay by tossing it into the compost pile. He grumbled at the stink of composting hay and grass, quickly throwing the tarp back over the compost pile. Walking back to the stall, he changed his gloves to refill her water and food, put the gloves back with the others, before returning inside the house.

He walked over to the barren servant’s quarters, the only place with a cold shower, his home hidden from Lady Guinta’s rare guests. He yearned for the days when he had warm water but the Lady’s alleged debts made it so they were forced to endure ice cold water. He stripped his clothes, turned on the water, and hissed as cold water splashed down his body. He sighed as he took the soap and began to wash himself. Lady Guinta would probably whack him if he came to her with breakfast smelling like a barnyard (not the first time she decided that he needed a beating). He scowled at the sickly scent of flowers from the soap, yellow carnation soap if he remembered what she had given him. It wasn’t to his taste but he learned that questioning her only earned her wrath. He let the water rinse the soap off his body before he stepped out of the shower to dry off. Changing into fresh workclothes of dark brown pants, a tucked in teal shirt, a white worn apron, and an ash grey handkerchief. He tied it over his white hair, something that Lady Guinta mandated for him. 

_ ‘You’re already the lowest of us as a servant. Your white hair only screams to the world that you’re a bastard son.’ _ He remembered her words, cruel and venomous, as he pulled on his boots. As much as he wanted to just up and leave, he couldn’t. Lady Guinta had connections to the Church of Fortuna as a cousin of the vicar. If she found out who he hid with, she would have them ruined. He couldn’t let that happen to the townspeople of Fortuna. He couldn't.

Nero shook his head, shaking those thoughts out. He had breakfast to make and an hour to do so. He strode to the kitchen and pulled out two eggs, cracking them on the oven space above the open flames. While the eggs cooked, he placed two kettles down for their teas not too far away from the eggs. On the side, he prepared toast and took out a pair of potatoes to chop up into hash browns. He frowned at the lack of bacon. 

_ ‘Note to self, convince Lady Guinta to let me go to the market for more meat and bread.’ _ Nero thought, quickly scrambling together some fresh greens to replace the bacon. He mixed the potatoes and some herbs together, adding salt and pepper to taste. When the eggs were done, he quickly got them plated on pristine white plates. Placing the plates on the serving tray, he continued to prepare the hash browns. When they were formed, he gave them a few more moments to properly settle into their squares before sliding them on the plates. Swiftly snipping two sprigs of parsley, he placed one on each egg. He poured the hot tea into tea cups and placed them on saucers, settling them next to the plates of breakfast.

Right at that moment, two bells rang out shrilly in the kitchen. He winced at the noise: The lady and her son were awake. And they were hungry. He quickly took the tray and walked out of the kitchen. He entered the deep green foyer and walked up the grand staircase. Taking a left, he walked through too-familiar green hallways (Lady Guinta liked green. Nero thought he was going to vomit from the shade, it was just off). He paused in front of Ansaldo’s room and opened the door, seeing the young lord at his desk. He was at least decent, in casual slacks and a button-up shirt. His long brown hair was tied up into a bun to keep his hair out of his face. He looked up, brown eyes sparkling at the sight of breakfast.

“Frassino! Come on, set breakfast on the desk, I’ll eat it later.” 

“Your mother would prefer it if you ate it now.” Nero said, a stiff practiced formality. Ever since he was a child, he had always been referred to as ‘Frassino’. According to Lady Guinta, his father abandoned him under an ash tree nearby the property. The ash tree had been chopped down and made into his cradle by the servants of the household. Now, however, it was only him, Ansaldo, and Lady Guinta. Nero preferred it if she had downsized the manor, cleaning it top to bottom was a pain. He would also prefer it if Lady Guinta called him by Nero, his actual name, but the first time he tried to convince her of that...he dared not remember the agony. 

“Fine, fine. You should give her her breakfast. I’ll see you at lunch.”

“Very well.” Nero bowed and left the bedroom, closing the door behind him. He walked up more flights of stairs to the master bedroom. The doors loomed over him, still intimidating despite being the young man being eighteen years old. He knocked on the door.

“Lady Guinta. Your breakfast is here.”

“Come in.” Nero forced himself to bear a neutral expression as he opened the door. Lady Mariza sat at her sizable vanity, brushing her dark brown hair. Her dark purple dress added a cold regality to her demeanor. His eyes met her own cold brown, regarding him with disdain for his very existence. He learned quickly that trying to gain her favor would only end in misery so he opted to just satisfy her so he wouldn’t get beat (and even that didn’t work all the time). Nero walked forward, waiting for instructions as to where to put her breakfast. She silently pointed to her desk, to which he placed the plate and tea at. 

“Milady.” Once again, that practiced stiff formality came out of his lips, fake and unnatural. He hated it. “I need to go to the butchershop for meat. We are also low on bread.” A silence fell between them, a silence that he hated.

“Very well. Do not tarry at the market, Frassino, or you will be punished. You have three hours.” 

“I will not fail you.” Nero said as the bells of Fortuna Cathedral rang out in the distance ten times.

* * *

“Look, I don’t know why you stick with that bitch.” Nero’s weaponsmith friend, Nicoletta ‘Nico’ Goldstein, huffed as she leaned against the counter. “You should leave. You’re a goddamn adult and she’s whacking you and keeping you as her personal slave!”

“Don’t you dare think I don’t fucking know that already.” Nero growled. “But she’s a noble and has connections to the Church of Fortuna. She can wiggle her way outta anything.”

“Like a goddamn snake.” Nico hissed. 

“I’m not putting your livelihood in danger Nico. I can handle myself. I’ve done it for eighteen years.” Nero pointed out. Nico huffed her cigarette angrily. 

“Look, I’m just sayin’, if you need a way to hide a body-”

“That kinda talk’s gonna get you in trouble with the guards.” Nero pointed out, thankful that the shop was empty. Nico sighed. 

“My door’s always open, hothead.” Nero frowned at the hopeful sympathy in her voice, that willingness to help him no matter the cost. As much as he wanted her to help him get out of the situation he was in, she still had to feed herself and the family she lived with. If Lady Guinta ruined Nico’s reputation as a weaponsmith, her and her family would be in jeopardy. That kind of guilt on his shoulders...he couldn’t bear it. She had known about his living situation for years and always offered to help him. He appreciated her offer, he really did, but ruining a business for freedom? He couldn’t do that. He looked outside to the afternoon sun, hearing the church bells ring eleven times. He closed his eyes. He had two hours left. He could stay here with Nico for another hour before heading to the butchershop and the bakery-

The door suddenly opened, causing his eyes to snap open. He turned his head, watching as a young woman who looked slightly older than him entered the shop. Her auburn hair was tied with a yellow handkerchief. Her dress was a bit more fancy than a typical servant’s outfit, perhaps she was in service to a noble house that actually took care of their servants. She was definitely fresh, her  beautiful face was too soft to be an experienced servant. 

“Excuse me, Miss Goldstein?”

“Well hi, buttercup!” Nico beamed at her. “I’m the one and only. What cha need?”

“I’m supposed to pick up an order from the Sparda Household. Something about repaired fencing swords…”

“Ugh, that family and their fencing swords.” Nico groaned, a smile still on her face. “I got cha buttercup. I’ll be right back.” She slipped to the back. Nero sat up, suddenly feeling rather self conscious about himself. 

“Uh...I guess you’re a new hire?” He asked awkwardly. The woman nodded.

“My name is Siena. I’m supposed to be serving the Lady of the Household but the courier hurt himself. I offered to go in his stead.” 

“Cute. I’m Frassino.” As much as he didn’t want to hide his true name from her, as sweet as she looked, he was guarded with his true name. Lady Guinta made sure to beat it in him that Nero was the name his father chose, a name for a bastard. He liked Nero personally. Siena nodded, hazel eyes focused on him. At the edge was a faint moss green, a green he found himself liking. It reminded him of summer. 

“Allllrighty then!” Nico walked out of the back, a bag full of fencing swords. “Hey lover boy! You carry them for the lady!” 

“W-What?!” Nero yelped. 

“Come on, don’t be rude.” 

“Fine fine.” Nero huffed, walking over to take the bag. He looked to Siena. “Um, you...got places to be? Because I need to head to the butchershop and the bakery.” 

“Oh no, my only task in town was retrieving the swords. Thank you for carrying them.” Siena smiled as they walked out the door of Nicoletta’s shop. Nero nodded and began to walk down the streets of Fortuna to the bakery. “So, what is your line of work?”

“I’m a servant to House Guinta.” Nero said. “I only come into town for meat and bread and whatever the Lady wants.” 

“Like silks and dresses?” Siena asked as they rounded towards the bakery, a warm worn building. Nero nodded as they entered, met with the scent of baking bread and delicate frosting. He looked up at the shopkeep, a young man named Cole. The black-haired man raised an eyebrow at Siena.

“Hm, new customer? You look...familiar.” Cole frowned in thought, black eyes narrowed at her. “Can’t pin it on who…” 

“I need bread, Cole.” Nero interrupted. Cole let out a huff. 

“Yeah yeah, I’ll get it for you, you sourpuss.” Cole lifted himself off the counter and went to wrap up two loaves of bread. Nero turned to Siena.

“That’s Cole Bellerose. His brother Claude does all the baking.” Nero explained. “Claude’s real nice, compared to his brother.” Siena nodded eagerly. He glanced back to the counter, watching as Cole returned with a bag full of two wrapped loaves of bread. In a smaller bag, he handed Siena a baked good. The brunette blinked in surprise. 

“Told Claude you looked like a newcomer to Fortuna. He told me to give you this.” Cole explained.

“Oh, how sweet of him!” Siena smiled at Cole. “Do tell him I said thank you!” 

“Gotcha.” Cole nodded as Nero paid for the loaves of bread. Cole counted out the coins under his breath before nodding to Nero. “Have a nice day.”

“You two.” He turned, letting Siena follow him out of the bakery and towards the butchershop across the street. Siena happily munched on the bakery as the bells of Fortuna’s cathedral rang out twelve times. Nero swore under his breath. “Siena, is the Sparda Estate nearby?” 

“Well...I believe so. Why?”

“I have an hour left before I need to head back. Lady Guinta hates it when things are late.” Nero hated the thought of what happened when he was late from the market, that thought being another beating from Lady Guinta. He entered the butchershop, watching as a woman with platinum blond hair finished cutting up a pig. She glanced up and went to the back as Nero placed coins on the counter. 

“...who was that?” 

“Elsa. Doesn’t talk much, but she’s good at her job. She’s not from Fortuna and that’s about all I know about her.” Nero said. He watched as the woman returned with paper-wrapped meat, setting it on the counter before taking his gold. Nero was about to take the meat when Siena spoke up. 

“Frassino, you can hand the practice swords to me. I can carry them. If you need to hurry back to your Lady, I understand.” Nero made a face at the thought before sighing as he handed the bag to Siena. She took the bag and slung the strap across her chest (taking cues from him, he figured). With that, he took the meat and thanked the butcher before heading out. He looked up to the sun, mentally calculating the time. “Frassino?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for escorting me today!” Siena bowed. Nero couldn’t help but smile. “Do you know the next time you’ll be in the market?” 

“Sorry, no. But if we end up meeting up again, then...uh, there’s a nice cafe I sometimes treat myself with, Rising Sun Cafe. Maybe we can chat for a bit?” He only barely knew Siena but she was just so sweet. He wanted to see her again, the brief moments of light in his existence as Lady Guinta’s slave. Siena smiled. 

“Of course. It’s a date!” She giggled. “Goodbye, Frassino!” 

“Goodbye Siena.” Nero watched as she rushed off to the Sparda Estate. He couldn’t help but smile before turning to return to the Guinta Estate.


	2. Songbird Princess

“Your highness, it’s time to wake up.” A gentle voice made Kyrie stir, the voice of one of the maids of Fortuna Castle. She blinked awake, eyes meeting the rising sun. “It’s almost breakfast and the bath is ready for you.” Kyrie sat up and stretched, slowly awakening to meet the new day. Sliding out of bed, she walked to the attached bathroom to bathe while the maid prepared her outfit for the day. As she slid into warm water, washing her hair with rose-scented soap, her mind began to wander.

It had been two years since her father, Enrico, passed the crown to her brother Credo. It was just past her nineteenth birthday. Already, there had been foreign princes coming to Fortuna to seek her hand in marriage. Credo, protective as ever even with the title of King, sent them away. She vaguely remembered the many love letters she received, being bestowed the title of ‘Songbird Princess’ by them. She did like the title but most of the letters ended up in the fire. She was hardly interested in them, only interested in what they saw was an easy path to a kingdom of their own in the balmy island nation of Fortuna. 

As if Credo would let that come to pass. 

There was also the gaggle of noblewomen seeking Credo’s hand in marriage, all proposals that went nowhere. Of course, they would never earn his heart, Credo’s heart was for another: The Captain of the Guard Dante Sparda. The white-haired man took up the mantle during Enrico’s reign, when his brother Vergil stepped down. It was before her birth but the maid’s gossip told her enough: Vergil had a firstborn son that was robbed from the Sparda Estate. They did have a second son, Vitale Sparda, but Lord Vergil was so very protective of the second-born son that there were only two places he allowed him to be at: Fortuna Castle and the Sparda Estate. 

Not that Vitale listened. But that was with the aid of his mysterious and cunning grandmother Eva. She was a lovely woman but there was always something otherworldly about her, something that she was unable to put her finger on for the longest time. When Vitale explained that she was descended from fairies, she still didn’t quite  _ get _ it. But she didn’t need to get it to respect it so she just left the topic as it was. Regardless, the Sparda Family was still so nice to her, despite the lingering air of melancholy around them like fog clinging to the ground. 

“Your highness?” Kyrie glanced over to the door. “Are you nearly done?” 

“Let me rinse off and I’ll be right out!” Kyrie called. Rinsing out her hair, she stepped out of the tub and dried her auburn hair. The maid was already prepared with her dress for the day, a slim light yellow dress with a soft floral pattern at the hem. The maid tied up Kyrie’s hair with delicate metal pins. With a curtsy, she showed the princess herself in front of the large gilt-framed mirror. Kyrie did a little twirl, letting the fabric shimmer in the morning light. Content, she followed the maid to where her brother was taking breakfast: a small nook that worked perfectly for the size of their family. 

The breakfast nook (as Kyrie had taken to calling it) was once a smaller reading room for the previous kings and queens of Fortuna, before Lord Sparda took the throne, before he passed it on to their father Enrico, before Credo was crowned king. The large window, an entire wall of glass, allowed the morning sun to pour it’s golden light into the room. Beyond the window was the gardens of Fortuna, perfectly maintained. Sitting at the table was her brother, looking over some reports. She sat down across from him, earning a faint smile from her brother as he set the reports aside.

“Good morning, Kyrie.” 

“Good morning brother.” Kyrie beamed at Credo. The door opened, a servant entering the room with their breakfast of warm crepes, fruit, jams and biscuits, and tea. The servant began to serve the royals their breakfast, much to Kyrie’s delight. Credo glanced back to the papers he was to look over, humming softly. With the table covered with food, the servant wheeled the cart away. When the door closed, Kyrie began to eat. “What’s the plan today?”

“Not with your mouth full.” Credo reminded her dryly. Kyrie rolled her eyes. 

“You don’t tell Captain Dante that.” Credo nearly spit out his drink, earning laughter from her. Credo half-heartedly glared at her. 

“I thought you were taking etiquette lessons.” He mused. 

“I’ve balanced books on my head more times than I can count. They’re so boring!” Kyrie complained. “I can walk just fine, books or no. They’re such a waste of my time. I’d rather be taking lessons in politics and economics than etiquette.” Credo let out a sigh.

“I don’t want to drag you into such things.” 

“But I need to be prepared. In case something happens.” Credo’s frown deepened. The thought of leaving her behind always pained him, something Kyrie knew well. He sighed. 

“I’ll consider it.” But he said that last time. Kyrie resumed eating her breakfast, the argument having died then and there. Credo finished his breakfast first, he was always a fast eater, as the titular captain of the guard entered the room. Kyrie glanced up as the red-garbed lord walked up to Credo’s side, a lop-sided grin on his lips and silver-blue eyes shining with mirth. 

“Jeez, what’s with the long faces? Nasty spat?”

“Only a little.” Credo spoke up. “Do not trouble yourself with our squabbles.” Dante rolled his eyes.

“Your squabbles are my squabbles too, you know.” Dante said. Kyrie smiled at how willing Dante was to shoulder Credo’s responsibilities. “Anyways, the squires are all waiting to show their stuff.” 

“I’m aware.” Credo took one final drink of tea and pulled together his papers. “Have a good day, Kyrie.” Kyrie nodded as Credo left with Dante trailing behind him. She sighed when the door shut behind them and leaned back in her chair. The idea of going to etiquette lessons bored her. She finished her crepe and stood up, hearing the door open. She thought it was a servant but, to her surprise, her eyes met the green of the second-born son of Vergil: Vitale. 

“You’re far too quiet for your own good.” She huffed. Vitale merely laughed. 

“I’m sorry. With my uncle around, I’ve learned to be stealthy-” The door suddenly burst open, causing the two to jump. Dante sprinted into the room, hailed by Credo’s shouting, to tackle-hug his nephew, earning a choked gasp of surprise. 

“Dante!”

“I’m stealthier than you!” Dante teased as he swung around his black-garbed nephew. Vitale squirmed in Dante’s arms, trying to escape before relaxing and just letting Dante have his fun. “Who’s my cutest dang nephew?” 

“I’m your only nephew.” Vitale said, voice muffled from being squished into Dante’s chest.

“The only nephew I know of!” Dante corrected with a big grin before setting Vitale down. He ruffled Vitale’s black hair and winked at Kyrie. “You two have fun!” With that, he returned to his king, who had his face in his palm. Dante cheekily wrapped an arm around Credo’s waist… only to grope his ass as he guided him away from the dining nook. Much to Credo’s adamant verbal protesting dying down. Kyrie giggled as she watched them leave before returning her gaze to Vitale, who was smoothing out his hair. 

“Well, that was...exciting.” Vitale hummed, no venom in his grumble. 

“He makes my brother happy and gives the castle a burst of well-needed energy.” Kyrie said. She looked up at the old grandfather clock and sighed. “Vitale, you wouldn’t happen to know how to skip etiquette classes?” 

“I believe I overheard how tired you were of balancing books on your head.” Vitale mused. “There’s better ways to learn-”

“As if I hadn’t heard that before.” Kyrie huffed. “I’m tired of spending my late mornings balancing books! That won’t help me run a kingdom when Credo isn’t able too.” She let out a sigh. “I don’t want Credo to work himself to death and I certainly don’t want some pompous prince for a husband.” She looked out to the garden. Vitale closed his eyes in thought. 

“Perhaps learning about the people your family rules over will be a more fruitful endeavor than balancing literature.” 

* * *

And that was how Kyrie Siena Elesion, Crown Princess of Fortuna, found herself on the streets of Fortuna, far away from the castle. She was dressed far more plainly, with a warm brown servant’s dress, an apron around her waist, and a yellow handkerchief tied over her hair. She had only one task: retrieve some repaired practice swords from the Goldstein Smithery. She had to admit, she was expecting more people to recognize her as the princess she was, but most of them just passed her by without even recognizing her as a princess. It was freeing, in a sense, as the morning sun warmed the market. She looked up, her eyes meeting the wooden sign that read ‘Goldstein Smithery’. She stepped inside the door. 

She was met with a warm smithery, soot covering the floors and the walls. There were two people inside, a woman with wild curly hair and tanned skin behind the counter and a young man with a grey handkerchief tied around his hair. She looked to the woman behind the counter, hoping that she was the titular Goldstein.

“Excuse me, Miss Goldstein?” Kyrie asked. The woman behind the counter perked up. 

“Well hi, buttercup! I’m the one and only. What cha need?”

“I’m supposed to pick up an order from the Sparda Household. Something about repaired fencing swords…”

“Ugh, that family and their fencing swords.” The woman groaned, a smile still on her face. “I got cha buttercup. I’ll be right back.” She slipped to the back. The young man sat up.

“Uh...I guess you’re a new hire?” He asked awkwardly. Kyrie nodded.

“My name is Siena.” She introduced herself. She knew better than to give her true name to strangers, that defeated the whole point of being in disguise! “I’m supposed to be serving the Lady of the Household but the courier hurt himself. I offered to go in his stead.” 

“Cute. I’m Frassino.” He nodded. Kyrie wondered if he was aware that he was named after the ash tree, a common tree around Fortuna. 

“Allllrighty then!” The blacksmith walked out of the back, a bag full of fencing swords and interrupting her train of thought. “Hey lover boy! You carry them for the lady!” 

“W-What?!” Frassino yelped. 

“Come on, don’t be rude.” 

“Fine fine.” Frassino huffed, walking over to take the bag. He looked to Kyrie. “Um, you...got places to be? Because I need to head to the butchershop and the bakery.” 

“Oh no, my only task in town was retrieving the swords. Thank you for carrying them.” Kyrie smiled as they walked out the door of the smithery. Frassino nodded and began to walk down the streets of Fortuna to the bakery. “So, what is your line of work?”

“I’m a servant to House Guinta.” Frassino said. “I only come into town for meat and bread and whatever the Lady wants.” 

“Like silks and dresses?” Kyrie asked as they rounded towards the bakery, a warm worn building. Frassino nodded as they entered, met with the scent of baking bread and delicate frosting. He looked up at the shopkeep, a black-haired man who raised an eyebrow at her. She didn’t pay too much mind at him, her thoughts on Lady Guinta. She was aware of her, a cousin of the Vicar of Fortuna. Allegedly, the house was in debt and had to let go of most of the servants of the household. Perhaps Frassino and a couple others were all that remained of the workforce of the household. 

“That’s Cole Bellerose. His brother Claude does all the baking.” She was pulled out of her thoughts by Frassino’s explanation. “Claude’s real nice, compared to his brother.” Kyrie nodded eagerly. He glanced back to the counter, watching as Cole returned with a bag full of two wrapped loaves of bread. In a smaller bag, he handed Siena a baked good. The brunette blinked in surprise. 

“Told Claude you looked like a newcomer to Fortuna. He told me to give you this.” Cole explained.

“Oh, how sweet of him!” Kyrie smiled at Cole. “Do tell him I said thank you!” 

“Gotcha.” Cole nodded as Frassino paid for the loaves of bread. Cole counted out the coins under his breath before nodding to Frassino. “Have a nice day.”

“You two.” He turned, Kyrie following him out of the bakery and towards the butchershop across the street. Kyrie happily munched on the baked treat as the bells of Fortuna’s cathedral rang out twelve times. She heard Frassino swear under his breath and glanced up at him. “Siena, is the Sparda Estate nearby?” 

“Well...I believe so. Why?”

“I have an hour left before I need to head back. Lady Guinta hates it when things are late.” Frassino said as they entered the butchershop, where a woman with platinum blond hair was finishing up with cutting up a pig. She glanced up and went to the back as Frassino placed coins on the counter.

“...who was that?” 

“Elsa. Doesn’t talk much, but she’s good at her job. She’s not from Fortuna and that’s about all I know about her.” Frassino explained. He watched as the woman returned with paper-wrapped meat, setting it on the counter before taking his gold. 

“Frassino, you can hand the practice swords to me. I can carry them. If you need to hurry back to your Lady, I understand.” Kyrie spoke up. Frassino made a face at the thought before sighing as he handed the bag to her. She took the bag and slung the strap across her chest (it wasn’t as heavy as she expected, perhaps the blacksmith told him to carry the swords out of politeness). With that, he took the meat and thanked the butcher before heading out. He looked up to the sun, mentally calculating the time. “Frassino?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for escorting me today!” Kyrie bowed to him. She noticed the smile on his lips and smiled back at him. “Do you know the next time you’ll be in the market?” 

“Sorry, no. But if we end up meeting up again, then...uh, there’s a nice cafe I sometimes treat myself with, Rising Sun Cafe. Maybe we can chat for a bit?” Kyrie smiled at the plans. 

“Of course. It’s a date!” She giggled. “Goodbye, Frassino!” 

“Goodbye Siena.” Kyrie ran up the street back to the Sparda Estate, the warm pre-afternoon sun lighting the way and warming her heart. She made a friend, a friend that wasn’t bound by the social order that trapped them both. She only prayed that she could meet the kind Frassino again.


	3. The Ebon Lord

The times that Nero could spare riding Fir out into the nearby Mitis Forest were days Nero always cherished. The wind in his hair, the sound of the swaying trees and the babbling brooks, and the faint aroma of wildflowers in the air, all of it just made him feel like he was  _ home _ . He could be who he wanted to be, far away from Lady Guinta’s disapproving glare and iron rod. As Fir dashed through the trees, Nero beamed as he effortlessly guided her. Fir followed his guide without hesitation, panting from the exercise. The afternoon sun shone through the trees, guiding his way. 

The duo came across a lazy-running river, Nero pulling on her reins to calm her. Dismounting her, he let her drink from the cool river water. Nero sat down at the bank of the river with a sigh. He pulled out his handkerchief, dipped it in the water, and wiped his forehead. He tied the handkerchief over his snow-white hair and leaned back, basking in the sunlight. He would have to return to Lady Guinta at some point but, for now, he would enjoy what free time he had. 

A snap of a twig caught his attention, ripping him from his mood to full awareness. Someone was here. 

He scrambled to his feet, Fir letting out a worried neigh from his movement. He heard hoofsteps, of a horse. Stepping out of the forest line was a noble, he could tell from the finery in his garb, dressed in black. The noble’s green eyes stared down at him. Nero swore he could feel a faint tug to this noble, some ethereal connection that he couldn’t quite place, familiar and strange. The noble tilted his head and Nero couldn’t help but wonder if the noble could sense this tug as well. 

“Frassino?” He asked. Nero jolted.

“How do you know my name!?” 

“Siena spoke of you.” The young noble said casually. “I am Lord Vitale Sparda.” Nero froze before bowing. “Don’t bow. I’m not my father.” Vitale shook his hand. The horse remained still. Nero looked back up at him, tilting his head a little.

“What brings you out here?” He asked. 

“I like to ride Nightmare.” Vitale said simply. The horse whinnied at the mention of his name. Nero glanced at the pitch-black horse, a behemoth of his species. “Normally, I would be on the hunt for stags, but not today. I wanted a welcome break from the affairs of court.” 

“Court?” Nero asked dumbly. 

“Of course.” Vitale tilted his head a little, seemingly amused by Nero’s question. “It is quite often I’m in the presence of His Majesty. But I often deal with dukes and marquesses who want my hand in marriage to their daughters.” He sighed. Nero frowned. That was something he had no advice to give. Nobody clamored over him for marriage, the bastard son that he was. Then again, Lady Guinta never let him out long enough to even find someone he liked in the market. As much as he liked Nico, she wasn’t into guys. 

“...I kinda expected that with the princess.” He admitted. 

“Oh, the princess has it just as bad.” Vitale said. “She has often complained to me about the suitors.”

“Are they as pig-headed as they sound?” 

“More than that.” Vitale chuckled. “They seek an easy conquest and are surprised when that doesn’t happen.” 

“That’s nice.” Nero tilted his head. “Look, I’m not really one for politics. But at least our rulers sound like they’re not gonna roll over at the first signs of a storm.” 

“Yes, that is a good thing.” Vitale nodded. Nero rubbed the back of his neck.

“So...you know me. I guess Siena mentioned me.” 

“I overheard her talking to my grandmother about a friend she met at the market while preparing her dress for the day.” He glanced up and down his clothes. “Down to the clothes.” He raised an eyebrow. “Does your lady not clothe you properly?” 

“She’s got debts to deal with. I just sew everything together.” Nero explained. Vitale raised an eyebrow. 

“I see…Well. It’s quite nice to meet you, Frassino, but I must return home.”    
  


“Ok, uh, have a good journey.” Nero nodded, walking back to Fir. She stood back up and Nero mounted her. He pulled her away and rode back to Guinta’s manor.

* * *

Vitale watched as Frassino rode off on his dapple grey horse, his stallion still as a statue. Soaring over his head, a large vulture-like bird cast a sizable shadow over the river. It circled before fluttering down to land on Vitale’s shoulder. 

“You noticed it too? That weird aura the kid has?” The bird asked, tilting his head. 

“I did. I wonder…” He mused. “I believe my grandmother will have an answer.” He turned to the bird. “Griffon, go on ahead and tell her I’m coming home early.” 

“You got it!” Griffon cackled and took flight. Vitale pulled on the reins of the ink-black Clydesdale Nightmare. The horse neighed as he was turned, hooves slamming hard on the damp earth. Vitale urged him onward, through the woods back to the Sparda Estate. As he rode through the sun-dappled woods, the trees slowly thinned until he rode up to a familiar estate, bathed in sunlight: The Sparda Estate. Much to his delight, he saw Princess Kyrie and his grandmother, Eva, taking tea together. His grandmother always wore a black dress with a scarlet shawl wrapped around her arms. Griffon flew down to the bird stand, leaning down for scratches from Eva as he explained Vitale’s little encounter with Frassino. Vitale rode to the stables and dismounted his horse, letting a stablehand lead Nightmare away. He walked away from the stables to the gazebo. Eva glanced up, watching her grandson approach.

“Vitale, you should wash up if you plan to take tea with us.” She gently scolded.

“I will, but there’s more pressing matters to discuss.” Vitale said. Eva raised an eyebrow. “I met Frassino in the forest today.” 

“You did?” Kyrie perked up. 

“I did. I felt a certain...tug to him.” Vitale closed his eyes. “Like we were connected, by some invisible thread. But I was uncertain if Frassino is the man I think he is.”

“Your lost brother…” Eva murmured. Vitale nodded. Eva turned to Kyrie. “You should let this friendship bloom.” Kyrie blinked at being addressed. 

“I- uh, really?” 

“For one.” Eva began, holding her tea delicately. “I think it’s good for you to have friends beyond your social circle. But beyond that, if this Frassino is indeed my long-lost grandson…” 

“Oh!” Kyrie perked up, as if finally getting it. “Then he can be reunited with Lady Cassandra and Lord Vergil!” It was true that, ever since Nero’s disappearance, the lord and lady never quite recovered. Although Lady Cassandra doted on him, there was always a piece of black clothing on her person, a sign she never got past the loss of her firstborn son. According to his uncle, Vergil took it the worst when Nero disappeared. Vergil had been the captain of the guard before the disappearance and the grief he endured caused him to step down and Dante to take the role. Vitale would love to have his parents be happy with a complete family but he didn’t have the proof that this servant was indeed his lost brother. 

“Vitale, do freshen up. You know better.” Eva gently scolded. Vitale winced before nodding.

“Yes, grandmother.” He nodded and walked away from the table, heading inside the manor. Eva began to pour some more tea, only for the teapot to be completely empty. She let out a tsk.

“Wait, I’ll take care of it.” Kyrie stood.

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly-”

“I’m the guest here, It’s fine.” Kyrie smiled at Eva before carefully taking the teapot out of her hands. She smiled and curtsied to Eva before heading inside. A coy smile crept onto Eva’s lips as she watched the princess rush inside, leaving her perfectly alone.

Well. Not quite.

"Lady Eva, you know it is not becoming of a queen to have such a mischievous look in your eyes. That's my look." A voice cooed. Eva laughed, turning around to face the voice. 

“My dear Chancellor, you know I am only mischievous when I have a plan." She cooed. The named Chancellor stepped out from the shadow behind her chair and bowed, his metallic talons clicked against the brick. His body was covered with ink black feathers, barring his face, which was more human than avian. On his hat was a black fedora, worn from sunlight. Taking off his hat to bow to her respectfully, he put it back on when he stood up proper. 

"So I’m allowed to misbehave under your command? Since when have I needed permission to cause a bit of chaos and anarchy?" He grinned cheekily and lifted the lid of the teapot, pouting at the lack of tea in the teapot. "Tch, you would think the nice pots would carry more tea but they don't. Such a shame." 

"That’s your tea pot, Chancellor.” She teased. “You left it here last time.” 

“Oh! That’s where I put it…” He pouted. Eva merely laughed as Chancellor took his teapot and hid it in his feathers.

“My dear Chancellor, while I am always amused by you, I’m afraid that I have a more serious task for you.” That got the fairy’s attention. 

"Oh? Let me guess, it must deal with this mysterious Frassino, correct?"

“Yes. I want you to earn his trust. Do not reveal your nature to him, if you can help it. Perhaps disguising yourself as a wounded blackbird will be a start, to see how he is as a person. All we have is the princess’ word on Frassino’s behavior and, although I do trust her word, I would like someone to see how he is when he is alone.” Eva explained. 

"Of course, my queen. I shall accept but on one little condition: I’m allowed to mess with Lady G. She's nothing but rude to you recently. I simply can't let that go unpunished." 

“If you can do it without revealing your true identity, then very well. Your primary objective is to observe Frassino.” Eva pointed out. “I wonder why his name is ‘ash tree’...” She mused softly. 

"Lady Eva, I cause mischief and chaos without you looking, of course I will be discreet about the punishment. You can always count on me, your excellency.” 

“Good bird.” She reached over to stroke his black feathers. Chancellor cooed at the petting. “Do not fail me, my friend. The task I’m giving you is very important not just for me, but for my son and daughter-in-law.” 

"I have not failed you once nor will I ever as long as you are my queen. I shall report back in a weeks time but my blackbirds will be here in my place." He kissed her knuckle lovingly and with a wink, he was gone. A few black feathers were left in his place. Eva took the black feathers, smiling softly at them before tying them into a small bundle and placing them in a pocket in her shawl. She was amused that Chancellor called her ‘his queen’ when technically she held no power over the people of Fortuna. However, for fairies, that was a whole different matter. They respected her as powerful but she was no courtly queen. No, that position remained unfilled, as Credo had not taken anyone as a consort and the few fairies that lived in Fortuna respected the laws of humans like her. But Chancellor was a charmer and ever loyal to the House of Sparda, to her husband and sons and adorable grandson. 

She was roused out of her thoughts by footsteps. She looked up as the princess returned, carefully holding the teapot she took. Kyrie looked around. 

“Lady Eva, I thought I heard another voice…” 

“Don’t worry, it was just a little blackbird.” Eva said with a smile. Kyrie tilted his head before sitting down. 

“Do blackbirds talk, Lady Eva?”

“Only if you listen, your highness.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chancellor belongs to FuryEclipse


	4. As Sweet as Apple Pie

Kyrie huffed as she pulled out the last apple pie from the oven, setting it on the cooling rack. It wasn’t often she had time to bake but, when she did, she would take full advantage of it. The scent of apples and cinnamon wafted in the air, faintly illuminated by the sunbeams of the warming days of spring. The royal kitchens were often busy with cooks and chefs but Kyrie preferred the quiet of an empty kitchen. It wouldn’t be long until summer arrived, Kyrie mused. Thankfully, Lord Dante hadn’t snuck down into the kitchens to steal one of her apples, only one of these pies would be for him.

The rest were for the servants, including one she would take directly to Frassino. 

Vitale had suggested it to her, bringing Frassino an apple pie. His father, Lord Vergil, loved apples and apple pies. He had a theory that, if Frassino liked apples just as much as his father did, it might be a clue that he was Nero. It was far fetched, in Kyrie’s opinion, but she did like baking anyway. 

“I see you’re in a mood.” A voice spoke behind her. Kyrie glanced back, watching as Credo entered the kitchen. Kyrie smiled at her brother and pushed one of the cooled pies to him. 

“I am.” She chirped as she stepped away from the oven to let it cool. 

“I have also noticed you’ve been heading to the Sparda Estate more often recently.” Credo said, leaning against the kitchen counter. “Is Lord Vitale courting you?” Kyrie blinked in surprise.

“Lord Vitale? You believe he’s trying to court me?” She asked. Credo made a face and looked away.

“I just-” 

“I don’t pry into your courtship with Lord Dante.” 

“Lord Dante wouldn’t know what subtlety was if it landed on his face.” Credo pointed out. Kyrie chuckled.

“Anyways, no, Lord Vitale is not courting me. We’re merely friends. I do like keeping Lady Cassandra company, she doesn’t come to court often.” Kyrie lied. Credo hummed thoughtfully at that but it didn’t seem that he caught her lie. It wasn’t a lie, per say, as Cassandra rarely showed herself to Fortuna’s court. The few times she did show, the nobles merely gossiped behind her back. Leading that line of gossip was Lady Mariza Guinta, Frassino’s mistress. Kyrie disliked her immensely for her cattiness, especially since it was always directed to Cassandra. Much of the rumor mill was her playground and whatever vague rumors that could apply to anyone would always end up in Cassandra’s area. She still remembered some of the particularly vicious ones: that she was regularly cheating on poor Vergil, that she was involved in the disappearance of Vergil’s firstborn son Nero (usually by fairy sacrifice or something silly like that), that Vergil was under some sort of enchantment that kept her married to him. Some of the most outlandish involved the entire family, that the men of the house (sans Vitale) were all under her sway like she was some evil seductress. That last bit of gossip earned a very harsh reaction from Vitale, who  _ snarled _ at his poor conversationalist, that the rumor was not true in the slightest and they could simply ask Lady Eva about her marriage to Lord Spencer (which was still very much intact). Regardless, Cassandra rarely came to court due to the vicious rumor mill of Lady Guinta’s making. 

“I’m surprised Lord Dante hasn’t arrived to steal a pie.” Credo commented, taking their minds off the dour subject.

“He knows better.” Kyrie hummed. “Once, he stole a pizza slice I spiked with olives. He hasn’t stolen them since.” She said proudly. 

“If you and Dante weren’t so close, that would’ve been criminal.”

“You mean, if  _ you _ and Dante weren’t so close.” Kyrie corrected. Credo blushed. “Go ahead, take one to Dante. He’ll love it.” She pointed to one of the cooler pies for Credo to take. Credo nodded, taking the pie carefully. Kyrie beamed as he walked away and began to prepare the cooked pies for transport to the Sparda Estate. 

* * *

A broken birdcall was what caught Nero’s attention. 

He glanced up from the kitchen, sweeping out the dust. Setting the broom next to the door, he picked up a basket and placed a couple old rags inside it. He walked outside the door to the bushes, following the broken birdsong. He found himself past the iron gates of the estate and into some rather prickly bushes. He frowned at the sigh but a wounded animal was nearby and he...he just couldn’t leave them. Pushing aside the thorny branches, he found the animal he was looking for: a common blackbird, nursing a broken wing. 

“Hey, come ‘ere.” He soothed, setting the basket on the ground. He carefully picked up the blackbird, wincing as it pecked at his skin. Placing the bird inside the basket, he crawled out of the bushes. He held the basket close, using his hand to shield the blackbird from any airborne predators. As he passed the iron gates, he felt the bird shudder under his hand. 

“Hey, it’s gonna be OK.” He soothed once more as he entered the kitchen. He set the basket down on the kitchen counter and went searching for materials to make a rudimentary splint. It would do to help the bone heal. After a few minutes, he found some cardboard, medical tape, and padding. He returned to the blackbird, who had seemed to calm down, and carefully ran his fingers along the broken wing. He found the fracture and carefully began to splint the wing into place. Much to his relief, the blackbird was resting calm under his careful work. When he finished wrapping up the splinted wing, the bird looked at it as if it was inspecting his handiwork. Nero ducked under the counter, picking up a cardboard box on its side to serve as a temporary home. He pulled out the box and put it on a shelf above him. Taking the bird’s basket, he carefully lifted it up and slipped the basket inside. 

“There. Now you’re safe from Shadow.” He said before cutting up some strawberries into tiny chunks for the blackbird to eat. It wouldn’t be long before summer would be upon Fortuna and, with summer, new plants for the garden. He placed the cut up strawberries into a bowl and slid it into the box, as close as he could to the blackbird. He leaned back, the bird looking at him, to the strawberries, and back at him before it began to eat. 

“Alright, now to name you…” Nero mused. “...I guess...you remind me of the soot I have to clean out from the fireplace, so I’ll call you Soot.” The blackbird stopped in it’s eating and just...stared at him before resuming it’s eating. Nero frowned. Birds didn’t do that, usually. 

“FRASSINO!” Came a scream of anger. He winced at the sound. Lady Guinta was calling for him and, from the sounds of it, she was pissed. With a sigh, he washed his hands and left the bird in the kitchen to eat. 

* * *

Nero sighed as he walked out of the bakery with bread in his arms. His back was stiff from being beat for not procuring bread and his mood was shot. He certainly wasn’t going to take it out on anyone around him but damn was he just upset. He hated being trapped in House Guinta, he hated the near weekly beatings (sometimes daily, if Lady Guinta was being particularly sadistic that week), and he hated the fact that it was always with an iron rod. It just made it hurt worse, the iron always burned his skin. It always took forever to recover the burns, even if the bruises faded.

“Frassino!” Siena’s voice caught his attention. He looked up, forcing a smile on his lips as she approached with a basket in her hand.

“Hey, what’s up?” He said, catching a whiff of cinnamon apple pie. A part of him wanted to know if it was for him but he didn’t ask. She smiled at him.

“Do you have time for a little picnic?” She asked. “You look so overworked…”

“Of course!” Nero would take any relief from Lady Guinta he could get. A picnic sounded perfect! “What’s in the basket then?”

“Ah, stromboli, salads, and cinnamon apple pie for dessert. I made it myself.” Siena explained. “There’s a quaint park nearby, shall we go?” She asked, holding out her arm. Nero stared at her arm before carefully taking it. It felt so nice to see her smile, to let her take the lead to one of Fortuna’s many parks. Walking over to a large oak tree, Siena pulled out a blanket from her basket and laid it down on the grass. Nero took a seat, setting the bread next to him. Siena opened the basket and pulled out a pair of salads, handing one of them to Nero. He took it and the offered fork and began to eat. His eyes widened at the flavorful taste.

“It’s delicious!” Siena laughed at his exclamation. 

“Thank you. Lady Sparda says I’m an excellent cook.”

“Excellent is an understatement…” Nero muttered as he began to devour the salad. Siena chuckled as she began to eat her own salad. Nero himself wasn’t one for salads but how Siena managed to make a plain boring salad so  _ flavorful _ , it was a miracle. He noticed grilled vegetables, pieces of bread, and could taste the olive and caper dressing. He looked back to Siena. “Can I have the recipe later? I think I want to try making this for myself.” No way would Lady Guinta ever taste this, if he had anything to say about it! 

“Of course!” She nodded. She pulled out the sandwiches. “Why don’t you try these too?” He nodded and took a sandwich. He took a bite in it, tasting the ham and cheese immediately. The sweetness of the tomatoes and the tartness of the olives worked so nicely together. He sighed in bliss before finishing the sandwich in record time. Siena chuckled. “Hungry?”

“Your cooking’s wonderful. I kinda feel bad because mine...well, it isn’t. It’s serviceable to the Lady and her son but that’s it.” 

“Oh, I think your cooking’s just fine.”

“You haven’t tasted any of it though.” Nero pointed out. Siena smiled cheekily at him. 

“Maybe. But I bet it’s just fine if you weren’t fired for it.” She pointed out. Nero had to admit, she had a point about that. Siena reached into the basket and pulled out a delicious looking apple pie. She began to cut the pie into slices and placed one on a paper plate for Nero. “Here you go.”

“It’s apple cinnamon pie, right?” Nero asked. She nodded. “I love apples, next to peaches.” He said before taking a bite. 

_ Oh good God it was delicious. _

He could only hum, leaning back against the tree as he relished the sweet apple flavor. When was the last time he indulged in one of his favorite desserts? He couldn’t remember, such sweets were not allowed for him to partake in. He could bake them, taste them for flavor, but never truly enjoy them, as they were only for Lady Guinta’s guests. He savored the bite as if it was his last (and, for the foreseeable future, it probably would be a very long time until he would have such a delicious apple pie). 

“You like it that much?” Siena asked, a playful smile on her face. He nodded.

“It’s...it’s heavenly. It makes me wish I could cook this good.” He sighed. “I don’t really get to enjoy desserts often myself. Lady Guinta forbids me to indulge.” 

“How awful!” Siena frowned. “You should-”

“What? Ask for sweets? I tried that and...got told no.” More like got hit for even suggesting it. But Siena didn’t need to know that and get involved in his messy relationship with his employer. He didn’t want her to lose her job with the Sparda Estate. Siena frowned at that.

“How awful…” She murmured. “Well, I suppose I’ll have to bring sweets with me for your enjoyment!” Nero blinked before he smiled.

“I’ll happily try them for you.” He offered. 

“No, you’re not just ‘trying’ them. You’re going to enjoy those treats because they’ll be made specially for you!” She pointed out. Nero blinked before looking at the cinnamon apple pie, Siena cutting the pie into slices to serve.

“You...you’re an angel. Thank you.” Siena merely smiled at him, his heart soaring at the sight. 

“You’re welcome Frassino.” She lifted up another slice of apple pie, to which Nero accepted with a wide smile. 


	5. Of Beans and Birds

The summer made way to autumn, the warm balmy winds suddenly gaining the faint nip of frost and chill. During the summer, much to Nero’s delight, Soot had fully recovered. When the blackbird flew around the kitchen, singing happily, Nero couldn’t help but smile at the sight. When Soot landed in the basket, he lifted the basket up out of it’s box.

“Alright Soot, you gotta go back to your family.” He said. “You’re not gonna be safe here. Lady Guinta’s gonna think you’re a raven and…” He trailed off. Soot merely tilted his head as Nero carried the basket to the edge of the estate. He carefully lifted Soot up out of the basket and carried him to the forest. He set Soot between two branches. Soot stared at him, tilting its head. Nero began to leave Soot at the forest’s edge, only to hear Soot’s birdcall. He looked up as Soot flew over his head back to the estate. Nero let out a sigh. 

Well, he couldn’t say he didn’t try. He just hoped Lady Guinta wouldn’t try and kill the blackbird. Nero sighed as he returned to the Guinta estate. As he entered the kitchen, he was about to eat an apple when the bell rang shrilly. Lady Guinta required his attention, much to his irritation. He set the apple down and made his way through the house, up to her bedroom. As he passed by the windows, he noticed a few more blackbirds flying by the windows. Perhaps Soot’s family moved to the eaves of the Guinta Estate? That was nice, to have a family. He had, in his childhood, yearned for a family. A mother and a father and perhaps a brother...all of that sounded so nice. But Lady Guinta made it clear that such dreams would never come true. 

_ ‘Dreams are for fools, Frassino. They only exist to be robbed from you. Let me make it clear: you will never be anything more than a servant. That is the way of the world.’ _ He could clearly remember Lady Guinta’s voice to a child who didn’t know better, who just wanted a mother who loved him and a father to make proud and a brother to form a friendly rivalry with. Instead, he had only the farm animals as lasting friends, the servants slowly fading from his life until he was the last in the manor. He wiped his eyes, trying to not let the tears fall. He had made his peace with what he had, abuse and all, but why did such desires make him cry?

He finished wiping the tears off his face. He couldn’t be seen crying in front of Lady Guinta, who would take the time to mock him. After a moment of calming himself, he walked up to the master bedroom and knocked on the door.

“Come in.” He hated her cold voice. He opened the door and stepped inside. The lady was in an off-gold dress, as if masquerading as a far wealthier noblesse. She paused from her writing and looked up at Nero, scowling at him. “We need more silks from the market. The Winter Ball is coming up in two months and you need to get our orders in before the seamstresses are too busy.” Of course, the ‘our’ was entirely for Lady Guinta and her son. He never came along if she had anything to say about it. He knew better than to try, to save himself from being belittled or beat for  _ daring _ to ask. 

“Yes, Lady Guinta. Anything else?” He asked. 

“If there is, I will go myself. A clumsy servant like you would only lose precious jewelry from my mother and aunts.” She huffed. “Now begone. And don’t let those silks fall into the mud!” 

“Yes ma'am.” Nero said, letting the insult slide off him. To go to the market would mean the possibility of meeting Siena and that was something that could never damper his spirits. 

* * *

“So, you took care of a blackbird’s broken wing and now the entire flock’s residing at the estate?” Siena asked. Nero shrugged as he munched on Siena’s newest sweet: lemon crisps. While he wasn’t fond of the tartness of lemon crisps, he happily ate them because Siena made them.

“I guess that’s what happened.” Nero said with a shrug. “I’m not against it though. I...outside you and Nico, I don’t have a lot of friends. When I’m at the estate, all I can do is talk to the animals I take care of.” 

“Oh Frassino…” Siena sighed. “I can ask Lady Eva to hire you instead, Lord Dante would love a new help hand-”

“No!” Nero yelped. Siena stared at him. “I...I’m sorry, I can’t.”

“Why not?” Siena pressed. 

“It’s...it’s stuff between me and Lady Guinta.” He was dodging the question, not looking at her intense hazel eyes. Before Siena could interrogate him, a blast of horns caught their attention. 

“Something’s going on in the town square!” Siena gasped. “Come on!” She darted off, Nero rushing after her. He couldn’t help but feel relieved that her interrogation would be interrupted by what sounded like some sort of proclamation being made. When they ran to the edges of the town square, a royal crier was standing atop a makeshift platform. 

“Hear ye, hear ye! His majesty, King Credo Elesion, has chosen who shall be his co-ruler! Lord Dante Sparda, Captain of the Guard, has been chosen to become Prince-Consort. To celebrate this occasion, The Winter Ball will be open to people of every social standing! Be you servant or noble, you are welcome to Fortuna Castle and be merry with our king and his groom-to-be!” A thunderous round of applause burst from the gathered crowd, celebrating the new engagement. Nero couldn’t help but feel happy for his king and the captain of the guard. “To follow that announcement, Princess Kyrie Elesion will choose a groom at this very ball! All eligible bachelors are encouraged to come!” 

“That’s silly.” Nero huffed. Siena looked at him, eyebrows raised. “I mean, it’s not like she’s gonna find The One that night. It just doesn’t work like that.” 

“I think it’s romantic, like in fairy tales.” Siena said. Nero sighed.

“I guess? It’s a nice sentiment and all but...life doesn’t work like that.” 

“I think you just need some faith. I imagine the princess met a certain someone and is trying to find him again.” Siena said hopefully. “Besides, I’ll be there.” Nero perked up. 

“Well, I...if that’s the case, I’ll see about bringing out my Sunday best.” Nero awkwardly rubbed his nose. Siena merely giggled. “I don’t know how to dance though.”

“I can teach you! My father taught me how to dance when I was a little girl.” Siena took his hand. “Do you have time to spare?” Nero looked up to the clocktower in Fortuna: He had two hours, but the seamstresses would be overwhelmed with work soon enough. 

“Maybe next time we’re here. The seamstresses are going to be swarmed with work soon enough, even though the ball isn’t for another two months.” Nero didn’t want to pull his hand back from hers, where it felt like it belonged, but he had to. Siena nodded. 

“I understand. I hope your Lady will let you go to the ball.” 

_ ‘I hope so too…’ _

* * *

“Everyone will be in attendance at the ball?” Lady Guinta asked, eyebrow raised. In her hand was a copy at the crier’s announcement of the Winter Ball, something Nero managed to grab before returning to the estate. She stared down at the announcement, her expression unreadable. “And the princess will seek a suitor amongst the bachelors that attend...” Her voice trailed off and Nero knew she was musing about the possibility of pairing up her son with Princess Kyrie (not that Ansaldo ever had romantic interest in anyone she tried to pair him up with anyway. The princess certainly wouldn’t pique his interest). 

“Lady Guinta…” Nero spoke up. She snapped up, brown eyes narrowing at his very presence. 

“Yes, Frassino?” She hissed.

“I’d like to go to the Winter Ball as well. There’s a servant I befriended from the House of Sparda and she’s going to be there-”

“Absolutely not, idiot boy.” Lady Guinta snarled. Nero resisted the urge to flinch. “I won’t let you ruin my son’s chances with the princess.” 

“I won’t even be near the princess. When I find her, we’ll be on the edge of the dance floor. Everyone else will be focused on the princess…” Nero tried not to sound like he was begging, she never fell for his begging, but that distant look in her eyes made him have a tiny hope.

“I’ll think about it.” 

He would take that. 

* * *

“And...there!” Siena twirled away from him, her dress spinning with her. Nero smiled, fully enjoying the dance lesson. Of course, it was mostly because it was his friend Siena teaching him. “Do you have it?” 

“I think I do.” Nero nodded. “I’m sorry for all the times I stepped on your toes though.” 

“It’s fine. You’re still learning.” Siena soothed. “If anything, I think you’ve improved since we started!” 

“Thanks…? I don’t feel like I improved.”

“You did, Frassino. And...if it’s any consolation, Lord Dante has two left feet. If you think you’re bad, he’s worse.” She said with a giggle in her voice. Nero couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Ain’t it a crime to badmouth the people you work for?”

“It isn’t if it’s true. And I’ve seen him try to dance! It’s awful!” Siena laughed. Nero awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck at the thought. He glanced up to the clocktower.

“I need to go back to Lady Guinta. She mentioned that she had more chores for me to do.” He sighed and rubbed his shoulder at the thought. “But I’ll make sure to show up. The ball’s next week, right?” Siena nodded eagerly at that. “I’ve been preparing my best suit for the ball. I mean, it’s not much but-”

“It’s OK, Frassino. I’m sure you’ll look handsome in it.” Him? Handsome? Nero blushed a bright red. 

“I- Um- I-I gotta go!” With that, he dashed away. He swore he heard Siena giggle in amusement as he ran through the alleyways of Fortuna back to the Guinta Estate. And somehow, it didn’t sound mocking to him. It sounded like she just thought his reaction to being called handsome was...endearing. He didn’t know why it sounded like that or why his chest felt so warm but...he liked it. 

As he darted into the kitchen, wiping the sweat off his brow with his handkerchief, he heard footsteps enter. He looked up as Lady Guinta entered the kitchen and blinked in confusion. She rarely entered the kitchen (and he was grateful that he had cleaned it earlier today, so she wasn’t here to complain about that). In her hand was a bowl full of beans, lentils from what he could glean. Sitting on the counter was an hourglass, one of those glasses that ticked down an hour. He used the hourglass for cooking times but why was it there? Lady Guinta never cooked-

To his horror, he watched as she dumped the beans into the ashes. 

“You have one hour to pick the beans from the ashes. And I want the beans picked clean of ash.” She said, placing the bowl on the counter. “If you do it in time, you will go to the ball.” With that, she flipped the hourglass over and left the kitchen. Nero stood there, shocked at the momentous task ahead of him and the waste of beans.When his wits returned to him, he rushed to the hearth and grabbed the bowl. He knelt down, beginning to sort of the ashes from the beans. That bowl...if he had to guess, it held what? A hundred beans? Two hundred? And they had to be spotless of ash too! He bit his lip, focused on his task as he faintly heard the sand slipping through the hourglass. 

About half an hour in, he sat up to stretch his back. He looked to the hourglass and to the bowl, barely filled with cleaned-up beans. He wouldn’t have enough time to fill the bowl...to see Siena-

Birdcall caught his attention. He looked up, his eyes meeting Soot. Soot was staring at the ashes. If he wanted to be generous, it was probably with disdain at the waste of food. Soot turned around and let out a loud cry. A flock of blackbirds descended into the kitchen, hopping over to the hearth. Nero could only watch in shock as the blackbirds cleaned the beans of ash, placing them in the bowl. When they were done, the bowl was full of clean beans, as if they never fell into ashes at all. He turned to Soot, who just tilted his head.

“Thank you.” He whispered, reaching over to pet Soot’s head. Soot chirped happily at the petting. “All of you.” He knew they probably couldn’t understand him, they were merely birds, but he could only hope they could feel his gratitude. 


	6. One Good Thing

The market of Fortuna was abuzz with activity, and why wouldn’t it? Tonight was the night of the Winter Ball and everyone was busy getting the last minute accessories for their outfits. The week prior, Nero vividly remembered the task Lady Guinta had set for him. He hated the waste but, with the help of Soot and his friends, he managed to complete the task in time. Despite his best attempts, he couldn’t help but feel  _ hopeful _ to have this one night of happiness.

He quietly munched on Siena’s baked cannoli, the two sitting on a bench and watching the people scramble for that one accessory to finish their evening outfit. He felt rather confident about his Sunday best suit, a warm brown hue that reminded him of autumn leaves. Since Lady Guinta was a devout worshipper, he had to come along to mass at Fortuna’s cathedral with Ansaldo (who hated going just as much as he did). 

“Frassino, are you excited about tonight?” Siena suddenly asked. Nero looked to her and raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, why?” 

“I...I need to ask you something.” The seriousness of her voice caught his attention. He sat up straight, all eyes on Siena. "Do you trust me?"

"Of cour-"

"Do you trust me." The seriousness of her tone made him do a double take. On one hand, he did trust her and he didn't have a reason not to. On the other…what brought this up?

"Is this about the ball?"

"Yes. I will be there, I promise, but not in the way I've been meeting you in the market." Siena said. Nero held onto every word. "But I need your trust." Her hands entwined with his. He looked down to them before nodding.

"I trust you." He swore he saw relief in Siena's eyes before she stood up.

"I need to return to the Sparda Estate. The ladies of the manor need to be ready for tonight. I'll see you there!" With that, she ran off, empty basket in hand. Nero finished the cannoli thoughtfully. 

What was that about?

* * *

Nero carefully stepped down the stairs, watching Ansaldo and Lady Guinta as they finished some last minute preparations. The two were dressed to the nines, their noble best. Nero did feel a little bad for Ansaldo, he looked uncomfortable ever since he slipped into his suit. The two were both dressed in off-gold yellow, Ansaldo's suit a more vibrant hue than his mother's darker colors. Ansaldo’s gaze moved to the stairs, to him, and he grinned at him. 

"Frassino! I'm glad you're going to join us!" He said cheerfully. Nero awkwardly rubbed his nose. 

"I'm just going to be on the sides. I just want to find a servant girl I met in the market." He explained. Ansaldo sighed. He looked ready to say something when Lady Guinta spoke up.

"What makes you think you're going?" She asked, venom in her voice. Nero blinked.

"I did everything you asked. Sorted beans from the ashes, bought silks to fix up your dress and Lord Guinta's suit, cleaned the house from top to bottom multiple times-"

"You're not going." Lady Guinta growled, something that even surprised her son. "Nobody wants to see a servant boy. Besides, your suit isn't even washed!" And before Nero could retort, Lady Guinta pulled out a vial from a secret pocket in her gown. She threw it at Nero's face, causing him to throw up his arms to protect himself. The vial shattered against his sleeves and chest, splattering a foul smelling oil all over him and glass all over the floor. 

"Mother!" Ansaldo stared at her in shock. "Why? That was-"

"You have forgotten your place, Frassino." Lady Guinta snarled, ignoring her son. Nero stared down at himself, unable to form words for a good minute. 

"Why!? I did everything you asked-"

"Listen, idiot boy.” Lady Guinta stepped forward, cutting Nero off. “I will not have you ruin my son's chances to marry the princess. You are a bastard son and a slave. You will never amount to anything so there's no point to dream of rising up in life. Now leave us. You will not go to the ball, Frassino!" With that, Lady Guinta dragged a sympathetic Ansaldo out of the manor, slamming the door behind them. 

The silence was deafening, Nero struggling to contain his emotions. He slowly stepped back before turning around, unable to stop the flow of tears. He had no idea what she threw at him, he could feel the liquid sting at his skin, staining the suit at the bare minimum. His feet ran out of the house, past the iron fence around the estate, and into the forest. He didn’t know where he was going, he just needed to get away. When he tripped over a root, he collapsed at the roots of a large oak tree. Nero didn’t even bother to get up, sobbing into the earth. 

A part of him hated himself, believing that he could hope that he had a chance to go. He hated himself for getting Siena’s hopes up that he would be there. He should’ve known better than to hope, Lady Guinta was far too controlling to let him any farther than the market. All he wanted was one good thing in his life... 

“Oh Nero…” A gentle voice, so soft he almost didn’t hear it, spoke. A hand began to slowly stroke his heaving back. Nero wanted to believe it was just a figment of his imagination, that he was that despondent to dream up a mother who did love and comfort him. “Nero dear, dry your tears.” A hand slipped under his chin and tilted him up. Nero blinked his watery eyes, coming face to face with an ethereal stranger. Her blond hair seemed to glow in the moonlight, green eyes shimmering with joy. She wore a black dress with a red shawl wrapped around her shoulders and arms. Nero stared at her before scrambling backwards in shock.

“W-Who are you!?” He yelped. The woman chuckled and stood with the regality of a monarch.

“I’m Eva. Your fairy grandmother.” 

“...I’m dreaming.” Nero laid down on the grass. “Fairy grandmothers don’t exist.” 

“If they didn’t, I wouldn’t be here. But I am here now.” She peered down at him. “Come now! Up you go. You have a ball to go to.” 

“In this?” Nero gestured to himself, soaked in foul oil and grass.

“I can fix that, my dear.” She said with a smirk. “And more. Now up!” That got him onto his feet. “Quickly, you wouldn’t happen to have a pumpkin?” Nero frowned at that. 

“Er...not really. Just squash.” Eva hummed at that.

“Well, that’ll do.” She mused as Nero led her back to the Guinta Estate. As they passed the iron fence, he noticed her faint shudder, as if a chill fell upon her for a moment. He went over to the squashes and picked out the largest he could find. Cutting the stem off with a knife, he returned to her with the squash in hand.

“Here.” Nero handed her the squash. She smiled and carried it outside the iron fence around the estate. Nero wanted to ask but thought better of questioning his newfound fairy grandmother. She watched as she pulled out a crystalline wand from somewhere in her shawl. With a wave, the squash began to shift and grow from a vegetable into an ornate carriage. Nero stared at the carriage, gilt swirls curling around the wheels and windows. 

“Woah…” 

“Now for horses! Hmm…” She turned to the stables and trotted over, peering inside. “No, you won’t do. You’ve been a good old girl, haven’t you?” Nero blinked as Eva talked to Fir, who merely let out a whinny. “Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of Nero for tonight.” She peered into the empty stall. “Ahah! You’ll do!” She stepped inside and pulled out the raccoon, who was trilling in confused drowsiness. Curling around her feet was Shadow, who let out a confused meow. “Oh, and you too. Come along now!” She hummed, carrying the raccoon outside the iron gate to the carriage. Shadow trailed after her. She set the raccoon in front of the carriage, Shadow taking her place next to him. “That takes care of the footmen...we still need horses and a coachman…” 

“H-How are they going to become footmen?” Nero asked. Eva winked to him.

“Magic!” She said, a mischievous grin on her face. With a wave of her wand, the cat and raccoon changed in a burst of golden light. In their place were two people: A stout older man in a black and white suit and a thin elegant woman in pure black, save for a red cravat around her neck. Nero blinked owlishly at the two. 

“I...uh…” He stammered. Shadow merely bowed to him and took her place behind the carriage. The former raccoon just stared at himself, still rather disconcerted with becoming suddenly human. 

“...I...I suppose I’m human.” He mumbled in a daze.

“I suppose...uh…” Nero had no idea what to call the now humanized raccoon. The raccoon looked up at Nero and smiled kindly at him.

“Winston. I like Winston.” 

“Alright then Winston.” Nero nodded, watching as Winston settled himself next to Shadow. That still left the horses and the coachman and Fir was too old to do either of those tasks. Eva let out a gasp, as if an idea came to her, and whistled. Holding out her hand, Soot and four blackbirds rested on her arm. She guided them into place and waved her wand again. In another burst of golden light, the blackbirds were changed. Soot was changed into a human with tousled black long braided hair while the blackbirds became night black stallions. Magically, they were hitched onto the carriage. 

“And now, you, my darling grandson.” Eva hummed. Nero looked down at his ruined suit. “Don’t worry, all will be well.” She waved her wand. Silver sparkles swirled around him, a surprising departure from all the gold. Nero closed his eyes from the intensifying brightness of the silver, aware that Eva had taken his hand to spin him around. There was a faint tingling on his skin from the sparkles. When she stopped him, Nero stumbled to regain his footing. He looked down and gasped.

What was once stained brown was now a mesmerizing dark blue, accented with dazzling silver. Underneath the exquisite jacket was a silk undershirt of white, the cravat held with a pearl and silver pin. His pants were also made of the same dark blue fabric, perfect in every way. He ran a hair through his hair, now soft like down feathers.

“I...I don’t know what to say.” He murmured. Suddenly, Eva’s hands were on his face. He found himself directed back to Eva, her green eyes intense.

“All this will not last forever. The spell breaks on the twelfth stroke of midnight, when the final bell’s ring fades over Fortuna. You must keep track of the time, my grandson.” Nero nodded. “Now go!” She grabbed his shoulders and urged him into the carriage. 

  
“Wait!” Nero yelped as he scrambled inside the carriage (it was still so shocking that this very carriage was once a squash!). Eva stopped, staring at Nero with wide eyes. “What if someone recognizes me?” That was mostly at Lady Guinta, who he was certain would embarrass him in front of everyone in order to shun him to the kitchen...or worse.

“Don’t worry. Nobody will know who you are. That’s the magic of fairy glamors: nobody will know who you truly are unless you reveal yourself to them.” That eased Nero’s fears.

“There’s also another thing. I...I need something to give to Siena when I see her. A rose. A pink rose.” Eva stared at him before, with a growing smile, produced a pink rose with a flourish of her wand. She handed the rose to him.

“There we go. Now, tardiness won't do. Go!” With that, the carriage lurched forward away from the Guinta Estate. The horses galloped along worn dirt paths, a backwoods road to Fortuna Castle. Nero stared at the rose in his hands, his fingers delicately brushing against the silken petals. Was it not just a few minutes prior he was sobbing at the base of an ash tree, his chances dashed? It all felt so surreal, dreamlike even.

“We’ve arrived Nero!” Soot sang, causing Nero to sit up in surprise. He poked his head out of the window of the carriage, seeing Fortuna Castle  _ right there _ . He swallowed nervously. “Alright little princeling, Go get that girl.” 

“I’m not a prince-”

“Tomato tomato, tonight you’re yourself, not little Frassino.” Soot chuckled. “Go give that pink rose to that lady servant you’ve been crushing on. Don't forget that, on the stroke of midnight, the spell will be all gone. Until then, I’m taking a nap.” With that, Soot leaned back and settled himself on the seat. Nero stepped out of the carriage and stared up at Fortuna Castle. His feet began to lead him up to the castle on their own accord.

  
_ ‘I can do this. I will have a good time tonight. I will find Siena and we’ll dance until midnight.’ _ Nero thought as he walked up the stairs of Fortuna Castle. He was met with two thick wooden doors, depicting birds in flight. He took a deep sigh. He was going to have a good time tonight, the one thing he had asked for ever since the ball was announced. With that, he reached up and knocked on the door. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Winston belongs to VarenNeoRaven


	7. The Nature of Roses

Kyrie scanned the ballroom for the upteenth time that evening, awkwardly playing with a pink cloth rose in her blue ball gown. The pink roses were held with cream yellow taffeta. Around her neck was a gift from her mother, a necklace bearing the family crest: two wings and a sword pointed upward. The ballroom was filled with people from all social standings, from the poor to the fabulously wealthy. She could see her parents happily conversing with two familiar people, the baker brothers from town. She was glad that her parents were at least enjoying themselves. As for herself, she had been asked to dance more times than she could count but each person was always politely told no. The carrot on a stick of her choosing a groom at the ball was only for one man: Frassino. She could probably sneak a dance with Vitale, the two were quite good at pretending to be a couple (despite Vitale’s lack of interest in the throne), but she had no plans to choose anyone tonight aside from the very friend she was seeking. 

“Are you certain he will come?” She heard her brother ask. She turned to him, dressed in white and gold, his imperial regalia. His half-coat, draped over his shoulder, was emblazoned with the same crest that hung around her neck. Normally her brother wore gloves, but not this time, to show off the sparkling ruby and gold engagement ring Dante had used to propose to him. She smiled at him reassuringly. 

“I’m certain of it.” She said. Credo looked up at the crowd before them.

“Forgive me for being doubtful then.” Credo sighed. “I do wish this mysterious Frassino would come soon.”

“Why is that?” Kyrie asked. 

“All this attention on Dante and I’s engagement is...a little more than I was expecting.” He admitted softly. Kyrie chuckled at his shyness. 

“As king, I thought you’d be fine with all this attention.” She teased. “There’ll be more in the future.” Credo let out a huff. 

“I know, I know.” He crossed his arms. “At least Dante is soaking up the attention.” He looked over to the gaggle of noblewomen surrounding his fiancé, grinning with a cup of wine in his hand. They were eagerly listening to whatever story he was telling, Kyrie spotting the glimmer of the golden band Credo gave to him. Next to Dante was Lord Vergil, dressed in black with grey vines climbing up the sides of his coat. She had seen Lady Cassandra, dressed in snow-white and silver, but she didn’t see her nearby her husband. Who she did see, practically ~~pathetically~~ clinging onto him, was Lady Mariza Guinta, in that faux-gold dress with white fluttery trim. It was the kind of dress that Kyrie found rather distasteful to wear, it was far too gaudy and it belied the poor state of her own house. For every ball Lord Vergil had attended, Kyrie could vividly remember Lady Guinta being attached to his hip, despite Lord Vergil being a married man. If she recalled correctly, Lady Guinta did take on a husband briefly, producing Ansaldo Guinta, but there was no love in the marriage. Everyone knew that Lady Mariza had eyes only for Lord Vergil, even when she was a married woman. As Kyrie watched Lady Guinta, a part of her began to wonder.

If the rumors (and Lord Dante’s account) were true, Lady Mariza had been obsessing over Lord Vergil ever since they first met. This obsession continued even after her marriage, even after _his_ marriage, even after her husband’s unfortunate demise at sea. With what little conversations she did have with her son Ansaldo, she gathered that him and Frassino were only a few weeks apart. Ansaldo was a year younger than her, which would also pin Frassino as eighteen. And eighteen years ago, Nero Sparda was robbed from his parents. That was all too coincidental, given Lady Mariza’s obsession with Lord Vergil and ruining Lady Cassandra’s reputation. She did read that the case of the lost Sparda went cold, with Lady Mariza denying she had any involvement in his kidnapping. The records stated that Nero was nowhere in the estate or on the grounds of the estate and that all servants (twelve at the time) were accounted for. But something still nagged at her mind...

The guards opened the door and silence fell. Kyrie looked up, watching as a man with white hair stepped inside the ballroom. His suit was a beautiful deep blue, lined with silver. Kyrie was mesmerized by him. His white hair was so familiar but the name was on the tip of her tongue, just beyond the reach of her memory. She walked forward, the crowd parting to let her pass. The stranger glanced at her, holding a pink rose in his hand. The hesitation in his eye changed to confidence. He bowed to her, holding the rose out to her.

“Shall we dance?” 

Kyrie smiled, taking the rose from his hand. She placed it in her hair, watching as the stranger (but was he really a stranger?)’s smile grow. She took his hand and pulled him onto the dance floor. The stranger let himself be pulled onto the dance floor, resting a hand chastely on her side. The court musicians began to play a waltz, causing the man to perk up. Kyrie quickly picked up that he was letting her lead him into the waltz, a familiar deference that she recognized instinctively. She swept him into the waltz, glancing around as more joined in with them. She looked back up to the stranger, who had leaned in a little closer.

“Siena…?” He mouthed, so soft the violins nearly drowned out his voice. Immediately, she realized who he was, like a fog had been lifted from her memory.

“Fra-” 

“Shh!” He whispered, a finger darting to her lips to quiet her. His blue eyes glanced around, as if he was trying to hide from someone. “Not yet.” There was a fear in his eye that she saw, a fear of being discovered by his mistress. She nodded.

“We need a distraction then.” Kyrie smirked. “I know the man.” She waltzed him away from the floor, passing a glance to Dante. She winked to him, causing the man to perk up. He walked over to the musicians and leaned over, appearing to say something to them. The music suddenly stopped, causing the dancers to pause in confusion. When Dante stepped out onto the floor, the dancers immediately crowded to the sides. Kyrie led Frassino away with the other dances, creeping towards a back door. She glanced back, watching as Dante held out a hand, a rose suddenly appearing with a flourish. His cloak changed from a plain red to a feathery red and white-speckled ensemble. Feathers appeared at the cuffs of his shirt. He clicked his tongue at Credo, who was blushing a deep red as he stepped out onto the floor. Dante darted forward, putting the rose between his teeth to take Credo’s hands into his own. With the music swelling to a spicy tango, Dante took the lead for his flustered king. Kyrie giggled at the sight, knowing full well her new brother-in-law’s flair of the theatrical, and pulled Frassino through the back door and into the gardens.

The gardens of Fortuna were immaculate but isolated, as everyone was in the ballroom watching Dante dance with his fiancé. There was a faint chill in the winter air, a chill the princess barely felt from excitement. Kyrie led Frassino through the moonlit gardens, walking up to a tall stone gazebo, vines and pale-white flowers curling up the pillars. She turned around, beaming at him.

“I knew you’d come, Frassino!” She said happily, a giggle in her voice. Frassino blushed.

“I’m glad I did. You...you look lovely, your highness.” 

“Don’t worry about honorifics. We’re friends.” Kyrie soothed. “You can call me Kyrie or Siena, since Siena’s my middle name.” 

“Both are lovely...but I like Kyrie more, if I’m being honest. It...it suits you. It’s as pretty as you.” He said. Kyrie blushed at that and began to sway a little, the dress swaying with her movement. 

“You’re so sweet. You’re just as handsome too! Dark blue and silver look lovely on you, especially your hair. It looks like starlight.”

“M-My hair?” Frassino asked, face red. He awkwardly began to rub his nose. “Nobody’s commented on my hair before.”

“Because you kept it hidden all the ti-” She stopped. “She forced you to keep it hidden all the time, didn’t she?” Frassino didn’t speak up to deny it...but he didn’t confirm it either. She couldn’t help but feel sympathetic to him. She always had an idea that Lady Guinta wasn’t as nice as she was when Lord Vergil was in the room, but what was she hiding behind closed doors? 

“Frassino. How long have you been working at Lady Guinta’s estate?” She asked seriously. He looked up to the stars, lips turned into a frown, before he spoke. 

“Ever since I was born. My earliest memories are in that place.” He said softly. That was it, the last piece of the puzzle she needed. But she just wanted to make sure that Frassino really was Nero, one confession from him. Even if he wasn’t Nero, she would still raise him up as her personal servant, even have him knighted! If he feared Lady Guinta, then any threat she could muster against her would technically be against the throne of Fortuna (and that was treason, she knew that much). He was her...her friend. And maybe something more, if the way her heart soared at the sight of him entering the ballroom was any indication. “My name isn’t actually Frassino.” He continued. “Lady Guinta...she hated my birth name. So she forced me to not respond to it, basically renaming me.” Frassino frowned at the thought. “But I know what my birth name is. It was on my baby blanket, the only thing that’s truly mine.” She perked up, it was the confession she needed!

“Then...what is your name, if it’s not Frassino?” She gently asked, hoping that her gentle encouragement was all he needed, her nervous (and possibly abused) friend with snow white hair and steely-blue eyes that was too similar to a lord that would soon be a father-in-law. Frassino seemed to hesitate, staring down at her hands. He lifted his head, meeting her eyes. She noticed how watery they were, as if revealing this name was something he wanted for so long. She pulled out a rose-printed handkerchief, the corner imprinted with the golden crest of House Elesion, a skyward blade and two wings, ready to dry his tears if he began to cry (a part of her wondered how badly she treated him, if getting him to reveal his name brought such hesitation). After a few silent minutes, he finally spoke with a soft voice as if he was revealing some great secret he held for eighteen years.

“It’s N-” 

_Dong…!_

He jolted, staring up at the clock tower. He whipped back to Kyrie, the princess noticing the terror in his eyes.

“I have to go!” Kyrie, in a split second decision, shoved her rose-printed handkerchief into his hand. He stared at the handkerchief for a brief moment before looking to Kyrie with wide eyes. Kyrie merely smiled at him, putting all her faith in him.

“Run, Nero. Run.”


	8. The Silver Prince

“I’ve been to many a royal ball, but none were as exciting as tonight.” Vitale mused as the room was ablaze in chatter and conversation, the young lord dressed in a simple but elegant black suit and a black-feather half-coat. Not a moment earlier, Frassino dashed across the ballroom in a panic, the tolling of the bell ringing out. Frassino dashed past the doors and into the night, the guards chasing after him. Kyrie merely shrugged, the two leaning back against a gilt wall and watching the crowd. The gossip was now ablaze with who they called ‘The Silver Prince’, given how he managed to sweep Princess Kyrie off her feet. 

“He seemed so frightened of being out late. I can only imagine it’s due to his mistress.” She explained. Vitale glanced at her before upward to the energized crowd. “But, I did give him something.”

“And whatever is that?” 

“A handkerchief. With my family crest on it. I will find him with it.” She said. Vitale let out a hum and slipped out the door to the garden, Kyrie following close behind him. “I must find Frassino. I don’t want him hurt by his mistress.”

“And we will find him.” Vitale said smoothly. When they were a comfortable distance from the party inside, Vitale held out his arm. Soaring from the sky, a large dark blue hawk landed on his arm, yellow eyes brimming with intelligence. 

“Hey hey hey, why aren’t you enjoying the party?” The bird asked, tilting his head. He looked to the wide-eyed Kyrie. “Ooooh, helllooo highness!” He bobbed his head, the best he could do to defer respect. “What cha need.”

“I need you to take flight and find Frassino. He cannot have gone too far in a minute.” Vitale said. “He has white hair like my father, a dark blue suit lined with silver, and the princess’s handkerchief. Can you find him, my friend?”

“Sure can, Shakespeare!” The bird chirped, flapping his wings and taking flight. Kyrie watched him go quietly.

“...is that...a familiar?” She asked.

“In a sense. You know my family are heavily entwined with the fae. My mother brought Griffon into my service.” Vitale explained. Kyrie nodded and watched the bird disappear into the dark sky. 

“I’m just worried about him. I have a hunch that Lady Guinta is abusing him but I don’t have definitive proof…” 

“Even if he isn’t my long-lost brother?” Vitale asked.

“Even if. He still needs my aid.” She said firmly. Vitale looked at her before smiling.

“If you were to become queen tonight, I have no doubts you would reign well.” Kyrie blinked before laughing awkwardly.

“You’re too kind, Lord Vitale, but Credo still reigns and has no intention to abdicate the throne to me.” 

“I’m fully aware of that.” He said, his gaze returning up to the star-studded sky. “But the point still stands, your highness.”

* * *

“Soot, faster!” Nero yelled, the tolling of the bell ringing out over Mitis Forest. Behind him, he could hear the guards yelling. Somehow, the gate slammed shut behind them, separating them from the guards. The carriage rumbled ominously, the horses panting from the exertion of being pushed to their limits. Nero looked out the window of the carriage, listening for the tolling of the bells. 

_ Dong…! _

The tenth toll rang out, followed by a surprised yowl from Shadow. He looked up as the gilt carriage began to turn into squash innards. He frowned at the sight before looking through the back window of the carriage. Shadow was already a cat, clinging to the carriage’s back window edge with a transforming raccoon. Nero didn’t want to see that but he reached over, grabbing the two and pulling them into the carriage proper. There was a final  _ pop! _ before he had a raccoon squeaking in his arms. He held them close, the fine suit already morphing back into his Sunday best. 

_ Dong…! _

The eleventh toll made the carriage shudder, cracks appearing in the roof as it began to fall apart. Nero kicked open the shrinking door and leapt out, rolling on the wet grass. He squeezed his eyes shut as frightened birdcall filled the air, the transformed birds returning to their true forms. 

_ Dong…! _

The sound of squash crashing into a tree made him look up. What was once a beautiful carriage was now nothing more than a destroyed squash, to be eaten by wild animals. Nero slowly stood up, letting go of Shadow and Winston. They walked around his feet, the young man rushing to the crushed squash to seek the blackbirds. To his relief, they were alright. They chirped at him before taking flight, Soot leading them back to the Guinta Estate. 

As Nero followed them back home, his mind was spinning. How did Kyrie guess his name? Lady Guinta certainly wouldn’t tell anyone that, much less the princess of Fortuna. Thankfully, true to Eva’s word, she didn’t recognize him at the ball. He had seen her practically attached to the hip to a stern lord, with hair white as his and cold blue eyes. Not too far from him, he had seen a woman about the lord’s age, maybe a little younger, in a snow-white dress gilt with silver. The two had triggered a painful ache of a memory just out of reach. They had stared at him, as if trying to figure out where they had seen him before as well. If the way that Lady Guinta was clinging to the lord, it had to be Lord Vergil. She had often complained of his wife, the elusive Lady Cassandra, as if she had deliberately stolen Lord Vergil away from her (although he was certain that Lady Guinta’s personality was what drove Lord Vergil away from her, not because someone that Lady Guinta didn’t like caught his attention). 

Those names...and the looks they had, as if trying to remember...why did it strike such a chord in him in the moment, before Princess Kyrie led him away? 

Stepping inside the manor, he went to the servant’s quarters and pulled off his Sunday Best. He tossed it into the laundry bin, to wash later. He paused when Kyrie’s handkerchief landed on the ground, its beauty a stark contrast to the dull floor. He knelt down, carefully picking it up and letting his fingers rub over the fabric. In the moment, he just took it and ran, fleeing before the magic disappeared. However, with the handkerchief in his hand, he could properly admire the handiwork. It was a beautiful rose print, the wings and sword of the royal crest sewn in gold in the corner. He walked over to his pillow, lifting it up to reveal the baby blanket he had kept safe ever since he could perceive the world. He slid the handkerchief under the blanket, to keep it safe. Standing up, he went to the shower to wash off the lingering perfumes of the noblewomen and the very sharp scent of squash that he was certain he had on him. As he finished cleaning himself up, he changed into woolen pajamas (he was too used to their scritchiness, eighteen years of it would do that to someone) and went to sweep up the glass shards in the foyer before Lady Guinta returned. 

As he threw away the glass shards, he heard the door open. He stiffened, instinctively waiting for a scream of wrath. But he heard nothing but silent shuffling and soft whispers, Ansaldo perhaps urging his mother to go get some rest (it was rather late, 1am when he last checked the grandfather clock). 

“Ansaldo, I will get Princess Kyrie to wed you yet!” He heard the Lady snap. Ansaldo let out a sigh.

“Mother, just...get some rest. It’s late. I’m tired. You’re probably tired.” He gently soothed. Lady Guinta sighed and the manor creaked from the two walking up the steps to their rooms. Nero sighed and continued to make his meal, the stromboli that Kyrie made for him. It was missing that nice sauce he liked but he needed something for his stomach. 

“Frassino?” Nero jumped, looking up at Ansaldo. He was still in his finery, a sympathetic look on his face. Nero didn’t respond, unsure how to respond. He noticed a small bundle in his hands. “I...I’m sorry my mother did that to you. You should’ve come.” 

“Why are you apologizing for her?” He asked warily. 

“It was my reagent she threw at you. I should have locked up my own reagents better.” The guilt he could sense in Ansaldo’s voice was genuine. He remembered the shock on his face earlier. Ansaldo carefully stepped forward and placed the bundle on the counter. It unfurled, revealing a small assortment of cookies and brownies. “I wanted to get more but...well-”

“It’s fine.” Nero returned his gaze to the stromboli he made. “Thank you.” He noticed a relieved smile on the young noble’s lips. 

“Thank you, Frassino.” 

* * *

Griffon huffed as he soared above the forest. How hard was it to find a pretty gilded carriage!? It was like the guy just disappeared into the forest! Griffon let out a frustrated huff as he circled the forest. Eventually, he landed on a low-hanging branch and huffed, fluffing up his feathers.

“It seems as if a certain hawk has been flying out past his bedtime. Shouldn't you be by Lord Vitale’s side, little hatchling?” Came a smooth voice beneath him. Griffon let out a grumble, knowing full well who it was: Eva’s fae ally Chancellor. He looked down at the grinning fae, his black feathers shining in the starlight. Normally, the two would be as close as peas in a pod, but not tonight. 

“Chance, look, I’m busy-”

“Frassino right? Lady Eva sent me to find and keep an eye on him. It seems as if we’re on the same page… for once.”

“Pfft, for once.” Griffon rolled his eyes. “Look, the princess is worried about him. She wants him safe and sound, the lovebird that she is.” 

“Oh my oh my, it seems as if we’re finally seeing a love story unfold. The mysterious Frassino with the fair princess Kyrie. Just like your soap opera shows finally coming into fruition.” Chancellor snickered. 

“Look, I’m gonna let that slide because the princess has it in her head that this Lady Guinta’s gonna beat Frassino’s ass for going out to a party.” 

“Well she ain't wrong about the abuse, the iron rod is her friend…” Griffon gagged at the mention of an iron rod.

“Fuck! Iron! I’m gonna puke.” 

“And that’s not even the worst part, she keeps going like a butcher cutting meat till she sees blood leaking from him. Such a disgusting and foul scent.

“What the ever living fuck.” Griffon muttered, clicking his beak. “If she’s that much of a bitch...well, I bet Lady Eva’s gonna have a field day when the two meet and she can let loose.” He fluffed up his feathers to emphasize that. 

“I have a different idea, my fine feathered friend… but only if you’re willing to help cause some chaos with me like old times sake?” Chancellor grinned cheekily with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “You remember that names have power right~?”

“That’s the first law of us fair folk.” Griffon said, leaning as far down as he could with a wide grin.

“I’ve been hunting her full name down but no fruition in her manor, it may be in the royal archives. But I have successfully secured her property under My name via some slight of claw fun with humans.”

“I’ll ask Vitale for it. But I get the feeling that the princess wants to go out tomorrow to find him.” Griffon warned. “She’s a go-getter so we’re talkin’ about a real tiny window here!” 

“Well we’ve done worse and crazier antics than this, little hatchling.” Chancellor beamed at the fae bird and pet his head, scratching him behind his tiny horns. “Besides, if we pull this off, I get another human servant that you can have at your beck and call. I think Penny would be a good name for Lady G. What do you think?” 

“And ya’ better mute her too! Her voice is like nails on a chalkboard! I can't wait to see her face when she dirties herself with  _ actual _ work!” Griffon cackled as he took off, his mood lifted like the winds that took him back into the sky back to Fortuna Castle. Chancellor chuckled and shifted back into Soot to fly back into the manor to keep an eye on his prize.

If all went according to plan, then tomorrow would be quite the interesting day.


	9. The Search for The Rose Handkerchief

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning! This chapter has depictions of physical abuse, broken bones, and blood! Please keep that in mind before reading.

_ Princess Kyrie, _

_ I do hope this letter finds you well. I would like to invite you to my humble estate for tea this afternoon. My son has your handkerchief and would like to return it to you immediately. _

_ Lady Mariza Guinta _

That was the letter that prompted the crown princess of Fortuna, her bookworm friend, and the lady of the House of Sparda (and said bookworm friend’s grandmother) into the first carriage into Fortuna. The sun hung high over Fortuna, the clocktower ringing out eleven times. In the royal carriage, Kyrie stared impatiently out the window in a more casual dress. Next to her was Vitale, opting for a more casual outfit. In his hand was a book, the young man flipping through the pages. Sitting across from the two was Eva, her expression unreadable. Silence reigned in the carriage, broken only for Kyrie’s worried sigh. 

It was obvious that everyone in the carriage was nervous. Kyrie worried for Nero’s safety, knowing full well that Lady Guinta was not who she seemed. Fortuna flew by them as they made their way to the Guinta Estate. Kyrie let out another sigh, her mind abuzz with worry. Every passing moment was another moment closer to Lady Guinta finding out about last night-

  
“This carriage can only go so fast, your highness.” Vitale’s voice broke the silence, followed by the closing snap of the book. 

“I know, I know.” She squeezed the fabric of her dress. “I’m just...I’m worried sick about Nero.” 

“As am I.” Vitale nodded in agreement. “As am I…” His shared nervousness did not ease the princess’ worries. She returned her gaze out the carriage window, as nervous as ever.

_ ‘Nero…’ _

* * *

Nero looked through the servant’s quarters, half in a panic. The handkerchief, that precious gift from the princess, was  _ gone _ . He had only left the servant’s quarters for fifteen minutes to feed the chickens and Fir, now that handkerchief was gone-

“Looking for this?” He whipped around, staring at Lady- no, not Lady Guinta. Mariza held the handkerchief in her hand, the crest of House Elesion shining in the late morning light. His hand curled around the black baby blanket as he slowly stood. “You know what’s funny, Frassino? You can’t afford this priceless trinket, a gift from the princess herself. And you were not at the ball last night, Frassino.” 

“Mariza…” Nero whispered. Mariza glared at him.

“That’s Lady Guinta to you. I have had you bathed and clothed for your miserable existence and now you owe me.” His blood began to boil at that, the most angry he had felt in years. “I want to be made head of House Elesion and a suitably noble wife for Ansaldo. With the princess turned right-”

“She’s not a child.” Nero hissed. Mariza’s eyes widened. “And Credo would sooner have you exiled for even thinking about that!” He snapped. “I’m done with your shit!” He ran forward, hand outreached for the handkerchief-

Only for a searing blunt pain to hit him in his stomach.

He doubled over, the blunt pain suddenly hitting him in his spine. He collapsed, squeezing his eyes shut as agony burned into his skin over and over. In the back of his mind, he only faintly realized that this beating was worse than before, Mariza driven into a blind rage. He swore he felt something snap in his legs, shooting shards of pain through his body. His eyes focused on the handkerchief but his body refused to obey him. He tried to reach out, only for his hand to get smashed from the iron rod, probably broken from the agony he was in.

The last thing he could sense before darkness took his consciousness was his lips moving, not to plead for mercy like he did before, but to whisper a name, hoping that he would see them again.

“Kyrie…”

* * *

Ansaldo frowned at the suit he was forced to be in. His mother was busy dressing him up for afternoon tea with Princess Kyrie. He had no idea why she was coming (didn’t the princess have more important things to do that come down to their manor for some socializing?). There was something off about his mother’s voice, especially with the handkerchief laid out so prettily on the table, emblazoned with the royal crest. 

A handkerchief that he never received, and yet laid there by the will of his mother. 

His mind drifted to Frassino, noting his absence. Normally he would be here, either holding something or just coming in with the tea. His mother said that Frassino wouldn’t join them this time, as he was in town, but Ansaldo wasn’t sure if he should believe that or not. 

“Mother? Should we not call Frassino to be ready at the door for our guests?”

“Of course not. Frassino is busy.” His mother replied dryly as she applied the finishing touches to his suit. She picked up the handkerchief and folded it delicately. Ansaldo noticed a strange dark brown dot on the handkerchief as she folded it up, a stark contrast from the delicate rose-print. As his mother folded it up, he noticed she folded the handkerchief specifically to hide the stain. It struck him as rather suspicious. He felt his mother’s hands slap on his shoulders. “You look so handsome!” She said, her smile disingenuously wide. Ansaldo stared at his reflection awkwardly. “I’ll freshen up.” She walked out of the bedroom. Ansaldo listened for her footsteps, for her going up the stairs to her bedroom, before rushing out the doors. He ran down the stairs, knowing he had precious seconds to find Frassino and see if he was OK. When he entered the kitchens, the overwhelming scent of blood met his nose. Ansaldo stopped in place, almost gagging from the smell. He covered his nose, trying not to faint from the intense smell as he entered the servants quarters-

To find Frassino, in a pool of his own blood. 

* * *

As the carriage slowed to a stop, a guard came over and rapped twice onto the door, prompting Eva to open it. She easily noticed Chancellor there in disguise as a royal guard. What sort of mischief was he planning…?

“Pardon the delay, your majesty, lord and lady. There’s been a crash on the road. I shall go ahead to warn our hosts while my assistant will drive the horses in when it has been cleared. Stay put for a few minutes.” Eva raised an eyebrow.

“Very well…” She said carefully, sitting back down. When the door closed, Chancellor went right to work. He used fae-like swiftness to reach the manor’s kitchen door. He changed his form to a more human glamor, to not startle the princeling that his queen was so fond of. He held his arm out for Griffon to land on. After a few minutes, the familiar landed on his arm looking rather proud of himself.

“Did you get her name?” He asked. 

“Of course I did! It’s Mariza Dalila Guinta.” Griffon seemed to beam at a job well done. Chancellor chuckled at his pride.

“Thank you Griffon, we shall have our new servant soon. Head back to Vitale, he’s expecting you.”

“Got it!” He took off and flew down to the carriage. Taking a deep breath, he knocked onto the door and waited for it to be opened. He had expected Frassino to open the door, only to have a frazzled noble brat stare back at him. When the door opened, Chancellor immediately smelled blood and, despite the anger that bubbled under his feathers, played it cool in front of the teenager in front of him.

“Who...how, who are you?” He stammered.

“Her majesty sent me ahead to secure the area before her arrival, there was an incident in the road so she asked that I move on ahead to make sure it’s safe before she enters. Is the Lady of the House present?”

“I...she’s in her room upstairs but...I…” Something was bothering him. While Chancellor normally didn’t bother with human affairs, the scent of blood was starting to worry him. The kitchen, from his observations, was Frassino’s home, not the home of this human. 

“What’s your name, young man?”

“Ansaldo, I’m…” He stopped, as if unsure about himself. “I’m an alchemist. But something happened-” 

Chancellor heard the carriage roll up in the distance and placed his hand in front of Ansaldo, using some fae magic to briefly calm him. He had no time for games. “If you wish to keep your head and wits about you, I would call the Lady of the House down and secretly guide Lady Eva to Frassino. Now, get going. I hate repeating myself.”

“That’s the problem!” Ansaldo objected. “Frassino, my mother beat him senseless and this is the only door that leads to the outside.”

“Get to Lady Eva now and explain to her what happened. I will deal with your mother. And get going before I steal your name too!” That seemed to get him to move, thank the stars. Ansaldo darted away from the door through the kitchen and to the foyer. Chancellor followed him through the kitchen with a silent speed, up the stairs with a devious grin on his lips. 

As the humans said, an eye for an eye.

* * *

As the carriage rolled up to the manor, the footman quickly went to the door and opened it for the princess and her entourage. Eva looked at the gates, a frown on her lips. The iron stung, even with her power. There was also Chancellor’s disguise. Just what was that tricksy fae planning? She looked upward, feeling a fae presence in the house, most definitely Chancellor, but he should have been just observing-

The door suddenly opened, revealing a disheveled nobleman. Eva recognized him as Ansaldo, Mariza’s son. But why would he look so disheveled like that? Fear? Worry? 

“What happened!?” Kyrie demanded.

“My mother...Frassino...t-there’s so much blood.” He seemed pale from something. Eva stepped past Kyrie. 

“Lead us to him.  _ Now _ .” Eva firmly ordered. Ansaldo shook briefly before nodding, leading the trio to the servant’s quarters. As they approached, the scent of blood worried her. The amount of iron in the vicinity limited her fae powers but, depending on what she saw, perhaps she could heal them enough to move him-

“Nero!” Vitale and Kyrie’s voice rang out in unison, both in fear. Eva stared at the sight before her: her grandson, her dearest darling grandson, body twisted on the floor and a pool of blood forming below him. His exposed skin was littered with bruises and those legs, she could tell they were definitely broken. She whipped to Ansaldo, green eyes narrowed at him. 

“Get me wood. His legs need splints so I can heal them properly.” 

She had never seen a nobleman run so fast, scouring the house for the wood she sought. She returned her gaze to Kyrie and Vitale, both of them crowding around the wounded man. Eva could tell, from the faint rise and fall of his chest, that he was just unconscious and not dead. Eva stepped forward, Vitale taking Kyrie’s hand and pulling her back to let his grandmother have some space. Eva knelt down, a hand cradling Nero’s head. To her relief, his head wasn’t split open. She could feel the painful sting of iron and frowned. How could Mariza know about Nero’s fae heritage? It was a carefully guarded secret, something only the Royal Family knew about. Her other hand began to glow a faint green, slowly moving down his body to ease his pain as best she could. She paused at his hand, noticing the awkward way it laid. Shattered, perhaps? It was certainly easier to mend than broken legs, the bones far smaller and easier to tend to. She closed her eyes, visualizing bones regrowing into place in her mind. 

  
“Lady Sparda?” Ansaldo’s shaky voice caught her attention. She looked up, seeing rough wood and strips of cloth in his hands. She let out a sigh. It would have to do.

“Splint his legs. They need to be as straight as possible. He’s unconscious, thankfully, so he won’t remember this.” Eva ordered. Ansaldo nodded and did as she ordered, splinting his legs. Once they were splint, Eva poured all of her powers into repairing the broken bones. Ansaldo watched with wide eyes.

“How…?” 

“A lady never reveals her secrets.” Eva said. “Now, who did this to him.” 

“My mother…” Ansaldo admitted. Eva scowled at that. “She...I didn’t witness it, I was in my alchemy room, but she was acting weird about him not being there and-”

A scream suddenly rang out before suddenly being silenced. Eva merely glanced up, feeling the faint ripple of fae magic. She looked back to the three, who looked visibly startled by the scream. 

“Don’t worry. It’s merely Mariza receiving her due comeuppance.” She said simply and looked back to Nero’s legs. To her delight, she could sense that those broken bones were mended. Slowly, she pulled her unconscious grandson into her arms. Although he was still wounded, the most serious damage was mended. He now needed rest. She turned to the princess and her second grandson. “Come along now, we have him.” 

“Wait.” Ansaldo pulled out a familiar handkerchief. He walked past her and handed it to Kyrie. “I...this isn’t mine. It’s his. But my mother, I think she wanted me to pretend that it was mine to put us into royalty. But I don’t want the throne. I just wanted to do my alchemy in peace.” He confessed. Kyrie stared at the handkerchief now in her hands, more focused on the splotch of dried blood. 

“Thank you for your honesty, Ansaldo.” Kyrie’s voice was stiff, unsure if she was in the mood to forgive (and Eva couldn’t blame her). Eva cradled her grandson as she carried him out of the servant’s quarters and back to the carriage. She noticed the coachmen quickly open the door for her, noticing the urgency. A few took off their coats to set him down in a more comfortable area and not stain the carriage seats. Eva reached over to gently stroke Nero’s snow white hair, moving it out of his closed eyes.

Her long lost grandson was finally coming home. 


	10. Nero

For the longest time, all Nero saw was darkness. Was he dead? He hoped not, he wanted to see Kyrie again, perhaps just to finally leave Mariza’s estate without fear of ruining those who aided him. Only faintly, he could scent a warm meadow nearby and…a lullaby? 

He blinked.

He found himself not in pain, for starters. But, more interestingly, standing in a nursery, in an estate he didn’t recognize. The room was decorated in a calming cream color, seemingly an offshoot from a larger bedroom if the french doors to his left were any indication. He could see the larger bedroom, a light blue room with a sizable bed for two. It certainly wasn’t the Guinta Estate, not with it’s dark ugly green walls. No, it felt...soft. Homey, even. 

_My love, my dear, sleep sweetly_

_Of rainbows and babbling brooks_

_Of Sunlit fields to wander_

_And magic in the glens._

_Not far shall I be,_

_Watching the moonlight beams_

_Until it rests beyond the sea_

_And you come home to me._

_Lullay, my little lion, lullay..._

He whipped around, watching as a familiar-looking blonde rocked a bundle wrapped in black. The blonde was in a plain white nightgown, as if preparing for bed. The baby in her arms, he could see a faint tuft of white hair. On the edge of the baby blanket was a name in yellow-gold thread: Nero. 

Himself. That woman was his mother. Something in him just...knew that was true. 

The french doors opened, causing Nero to jump. He whipped around, panicking before realizing that the woman did not question his presence. No, she seemed completely unaware of it. Perhaps this was just a memory? At the bare minimum, it seemed to be a dream. With that, he focused on the person entering: A familiar white-haired nobleman dressed in dark blue bedroom wear. He walked over to the woman and rested his hands on her shoulders. 

“Is he asleep?” The man (his father, that had to be his father) murmured. 

“Out like a light.” She said with a smile as she laid him down into the crib. She turned a little to rest a hand on his chest, leaning against him. “Our little lion…you think he’s going to be a knight someday?” 

“Perhaps, but I would rather have Nero live a life that doesn’t involve him fighting like my brother and I have.” His father admitted. Nero frowned. So much for that sentiment, even if it wasn’t quite accurate from his living situation. He may not have had to fight for his life but eighteen years of balancing Mariza’s mood, being beat for the littlest things, was that not a fight in it’s own? “Come, let us head to bed.” He said as he led his mother out of the nursery to his bedroom, the rooms darkening as they left. 

A chill suddenly caught his attention. He whipped around, watching as a woman jumped through the opened window and reached in. She grabbed the slumbering infant and leapt out of the window. Nero dashed after her, even though he couldn’t really stop her (why did that doubt come in his head?). As he ran into the forest, he heard a scream of grief behind him. He looked back, faintly seeing the light blue pajamas of his father trying (and failing) to find the thief. A twinge of pain struck his heart, knowing that he failed. What would have changed, had his father succeeded in recovering him, aside from a life where he wasn’t a slave in a rich woman’s manor? 

He found himself still following the thief through the woods, she seemed to know her way around Mitis Forest. As he followed, he noticed the thief had slowed down. He followed her to an ash tree, where he noticed a figure waiting patiently under its boughs. A figure whose name slammed into his mind like the iron rod they once bore: Mariza Guinta. 

“You have the whelp?” Mariza growled. The thief nodded and curtsied, handing the bundle over to her. Mariza pulled out a sizable bag of coin and let the thief take it before she disappeared into the night. Mariza stared down at the baby, who was starting to fuss. “Ugh, you have her eyes. How disgusting. If Lord Vergil would have married me, perhaps you wouldn’t be the object of my spite.” She growled, turning around and leaving the ash tree. “Your name shall be Frassino, wretched child, and you are my newest servant. It’s only fitting that the son of that harlot is my slave. If she had just stayed out of Fortuna Castle and sold herself on the streets like the whore she is, you would still be in your father’s arms.” He noticed her grip had tightened on the baby, causing the infant to cry out. “Oh silence. Your ‘mother’ and lord father are not here to save you. They will never save you, if I have anything to say about it.” 

“Tsk tsk, these memories are no longer useful for you little prince.” A third voice, familiar and strange at the same time, rang in his mind. Nero stumbled back, holding his head as the night-shrouded forest warped and distorted before him. “Open your eyes Nero, for the warmth and love you craved is now here for you to finally behold. No more of this nightmare, wake up.” 

He opened his eyes. 

No more was he in that dark forest, but on a bed. His body wasn’t aching at all, as if he had just woken up from a good rest. The bed beneath him was plush and soft, a far cry from his old bed. He sat up in the bed and looked down at the baby blanket still clutched so tightly in his hands. Looking up, he realized he was in an achingly familiar room, with cream-colored walls and white trim. Despite its familiarity, it was barren, aside from the bed he was sleeping on, a dresser, and a desk that a woman was fast asleep on. He looked out the window, noticing the sun was hovering low in the sky. A blackbird looking like Soot soon flew away after it stopped singing it’s little bird song.

“How...how long was I out?” He murmured to himself. He looked around, noting the lack of identifying decor in the room. It seemed to be a plain guest bedroom. He returned his gaze to the sleeping woman. She wasn’t Kyrie, due to her blonde hair (perhaps Kyrie was with her brother?). He noticed her attire was all black, like she was mourning someone or something. “Hey!” He called, causing the woman to jump awake. She sat up, green eyes staring wide at him.

“You...you’re awake.” There was a relief in her voice, did she think he...died? That was a grim thought he immediately tossed out of his head. Nero stared awkwardly at her, unsure what to say. The woman slowly stood up and took the chair with her to the side of the bed. Taking a seat, she stared at Nero intently. “You look just like him…” 

“Thanks?” Nero said awkwardly. “I’m sorry...who are you?” He hated the flinch he got from the woman. 

“I’m...I’m Cassandra Sparda. And, if Eva is correct, your mother.” There was a hint of hope in her voice, as if she was praying that Eva was correct. “I...I don’t know if you remember me or your father, you were so young when you were robbed from us. Do you...do you know your name, at the very least?” He glanced down to the baby blanket, clutched in his hands tightly.

“It’s Nero.” He said. She let out a sigh of relief. 

“She didn’t rob your name from you. That’s...that’s such a relief. Out of everything she took from us, just to spite me…” There was a distant look in her eyes. “I should’ve done more, I knew she was guilty, but we didn’t have any proof she did it. Nero...I never wanted you in between our squabble.” 

“Why me?” Nero asked. Cassandra sighed at that.

“Jealousy, I guess. Mariza always wanted to be your father’s wife but he never reciprocated her attempts to earn his love. He confided in me that he never liked how she talked down to the common people. I always knew Mariza hated me, she always talked shit about me behind my back, but to go so far as to rob you from my arms…” She lowered her head. “I’m so sorry, Nero. I should’ve done more to save you from her. I should’ve pressed harder on the investigation into your kidnapping, I should’ve-” 

“Hey, don’t apologize, you didn’t know.” Nero carefully reached out to hold her hand. She jerked her head up, green meeting his blue, before tearing up. 

“Nero, my little lion…” She looked ready to cry. “You’re too kind.” 

“...I...I have a question.” Nero began. She nodded, taking a handkerchief to dry her eyes. “Do you know why she wanted Ansaldo to marry Kyrie? If she wanted to marry my dad so badly, why would she want to be in the royal family?” 

“If I had to guess, both him and her would be elevated to royalty. She could make a case to have me banished from Fortuna. Since I would be banished from Fortuna, and she had connections to the vicar of Fortuna, she could nullify our marriage, leaving your father open for marriage again.” Cassandra explained. “It’s only a guess though and I doubt it will ever come to that, since Kyrie mentioned that Mariza was going to be punished for her crimes.” Cassandra let out a relieved sigh. “Slavery is illegal in Fortuna, after all, and Mariza hadn’t had any servants on a payroll in five years, from what I remember reading in the public records...” 

“Punishment has already been dealt to her.” Came a new voice. Both of them looked up as Eva entered the room. “I’m glad you’re awake, Nero.” 

“You!” Nero gasped. “You, you were the one who got me to the ball!” Cassandra stared at Eva, who’s smile faltered a little. “If you knew my parents were going to be there, why didn’t you change the magic so that they’d recognize me?!” 

“Fae magic doesn’t work like that, Nero.” Eva explained. “It deals in specifics and absolutles. You didn’t want Mariza to recognize you so the magic made sure you would not be recognized by anyone, unless you revealed yourself to them. Nobody knew who you were in that room. They could only guess but never come close to the truth.” 

“A lot of good that did me...” Nero muttered bitterly. 

“I never expected Mariza to go that far.” Eva said solemnly. “I cannot see in the future, my dear grandson. If I could, I would’ve made you stay with the Princess. You would have reunited with your mother and father that night, and Mariza would’ve dealt with Fortuna’s courts about the matter of enslaving a nobleman’s son.” She paused. “Speaking of sons…”

“Vergil’s out hunting.” Cassandra said. “With Lord Uccello.” She turned to Nero. “Lord Uccello has been a family friend for years, he borrowed Vergil for the afternoon because he was...distressed at the state you arrived in.” Nero nodded at that. “You’ll meet him eventually. He was...well, he was in a right state when Eva carried you inside. You were still unconscious and covered in blood before her and I could clean you up.” She glanced down to his once broken hand, still dark purple from the hit. “She hurt you with iron, didn’t she?” 

“How do you know that?”

“Well, the fae do have weaknesses, chief amongst them being a weakness to iron. Normally, your bruises would be gone right now, but iron...it still hurts the fae, no matter how diluted the blood becomes.” 

“Fae? Whatever are you...oh.” It came to him: Eva did say she was his fairy grandmother. It was true in a more literal sense. He looked down at his hand as well. “Does that mean Lord- I mean, Vitale, he’s my brother?”

“And part fae as well.” Cassandra added with a nod. “But I...Eva, forgive me if I am assuming too much but I...I don’t feel any sort of fae from him.”

“Most likely because it was suppressed by our weakness used against him.” Eva said. “But he’s not there any more. And once he’s recovered, I’ll personally help him grow into his heritage.” She smiled at Nero. “I imagine you’re quite hungry.” 

“Food would be nice, yeah.” Nero nodded. Eva smiled and stood, leaving the room. He looked to his mother, who was watching Eva leave. When she closed the door behind her, Cassandra lowered her head. Nero leaned back on the bed, letting the silence settle in the room. There would be time for more questions later but, for now, he had a new life to adjust to. 

To think he had a family who loved him, who missed him, who feared for his life for eighteen long years...it was comforting to know he had a home he belonged to. And that home...was here. He could get used to that.


	11. A Fine Feathered Friend

“And that’s enough for today, Nero.” Eva’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts. In his hands, he could faintly feel the tendrils of magic fading away. Ever since his arrival at the Sparda Estate, he had so much to learn, to adjust to, since he was a slave no longer. First among them was the fae magic that had been suppressed for eighteen years. While Vitale’s skills were in the summoning of familiars, Nero found himself without such a niche to fit himself in. 

Today’s lesson? Trying to levitate a book. Nero had focused hard on trying to get it to float but his thoughts were elsewhere, unable to focus on making a mere book float in the air in any direction, much less up. He exerted much of his mental fortitude in the task, only to have nothing to show for it. He flopped down on the chair and sighed. 

“It’s hard.” He mumbled. 

“We haven’t found your specialty yet Nero. Don’t beat yourself up over it.” Eva soothed, walking over to press a kiss to his head. “There’s plenty of time to figure out what you’re good in.” 

“You said that last time.” Nero sighed. 

“And I’ll say it again and again, my dear grandson.” Eva smiled and kissed his head again. “There’s no rush to find out what best suits you. Why, you only returned to us a week ago!” And that was true. It had been a week since Mariza’s assault and his rescue by the princess, his newly found brother, and his grandmother. It had been quite the adjustment, now living in a noble house, a life that was supposed to be his by birthright. 

The first shock was his grandfather: Spencer Sparda. He was...well, he was a very emotional man. When he entered his bedroom, he nearly barreled over to hug his grandson (until Eva followed quickly after and reigned him in with the reminder that he still was recovering). Spencer had sat down on the bed and asked him a hundred questions at a hundred miles an hour, giving Nero whiplash until Eva, once again, reminded him to slow down. Nero quickly pieced together this stranger: a man with a passion for life and joy, to live every moment he could, and enough energy to run a watermill. Or multiple times. But his jovial personality was something he couldn’t help but like. 

Spencer took it upon himself to bring meals to Nero while he was bedbound (which didn’t last long, only a couple more days with Eva’s healing). He spent that time talking up and down about the childhood of his sons, regaling Nero about their youthful misadventures, mishaps in their knighthood, but all tales with happy endings and laughter. Nero had to admit, there was something...nostalgic about listening to Spencer go on and on for hours on end, until his own meal was cold, just listening to his grandfather’s many stories about his father and uncle. 

If only Dante were here, telling Nero tales of his own childhood! Alas, as King Credo’s up and coming Prince-Consort, Dante had to accompany Credo on a diplomatic trip beyond Fortuna’s shores. Nero would have to make do with his father, the cold Vergil. 

Well, Vergil’s coldness wasn’t necessarily his fault. How does a father reconnect with a son he long thought as dead? Nero also felt a tinge of awkwardness, a stiffness in their interactions that they had to work out together. Nero never had male figures in his life that he could call a father, as all of Lady Guinta’s servants were female. Each interaction was filled with awkwardness, neither father nor son able to really connect. Cassandra, his mother, still held hope that the two could form the father and son relationship that they had thought to be forever lost.

“Nero?” He looked up. “I’m going to make dinner. Whenever you’re ready, wash up and head to the kitchen, OK?” 

“I will. Thanks nonna.” It just slipped out, causing Nero to blush. Eva merely laughed.

“You’re welcome, my dear grandson.” With that, she went inside. Nero let out an awkward noise and buried his face in his hands. 

“Aww, you’re such a cute little one.” Came a familiar voice. “Lady Eva loves it, quite cute if you ask me.” He whipped around, watching as a man (was he a man? He couldn’t tell, his overcoat and cloak of feathers hid most of his features) walked around the chair he was sitting in. He recognized that familiar mess of black hair and amber eyes: the coachman of the carriage that took him to The Winter Ball. He held onto his black fedora and briefly took it off his head, as if tipping it off to him before placing it back on his head.

“Soot?” Nero asked, staring wide at him. “How are you human? I saw you get turned into a bird!”

“Well, I’m not quite a bird. Just mostly a bird. But also human if I chose to be.” The man chuckled. “I’m fae, just like Lady Eva. But unlike her, I'm a full blooded fae. You might know me better as Lord Uccello or Chancellor, take your pick.” 

“Uccello…” Nero groaned. “It just means bird.” Chancellor winked. 

“Ha! Finally someone got the joke. As you can see, I’m quite clever! However, punishment to cruel and abusive humans is my forté. Such as a certain former lady.”

“Mariza.” Nero said, giving the avian fae a look. “What did you do to her?”

“Oh, Lady Eva never explained the rules of the fae to you?” Nero shook his head. His grandmother seemed more focused on finding where his fae magic was strongest than the rules about using it and the fae in general. Chancellor gasped a bit in shock. “I must, no, I WILL give you a little crash course in it. I do hope you’ll remember for the test later.” He grinned cheekily.

“Wait a test?”

“I’m teasing, little princeling!” He laughed. “One rule with the fae is that your name has power. Guard your real name for if a fae takes it, they can own you. So I lovingly got the hag’s name, I made her my newest lifelong servant. Her name is Penny now. Nothing but a worthless cent that will never be able to pay off her lifelong debt for hurting you. She cooks, she cleans, she serves the estate she once owned. It’s quite funny really, she tried to run, but didn't make it far.” Nero noticed he was far too cheery, his grin far too wide, as he spoke. “Needless to say, she will never be near you again, Lady Eva and Cassandra’s orders. And trust me.” His voice darkened. “I wouldn't let her near you, I'd gouge out her eyes if she ever tried to see you again.” Only for it to switch to a happier facade in an instant. “Go on, I know you’ve got questions. Ask away.”

“What about Ansaldo?” Nero asked. “He was just as much a victim of her as I was.” 

“Ah, you’re talking about my newest squire. He’s abandoned his family name and took mine under the promise he was going to continue studying alchemy. Which! He is! He’s in a different and more stable cottage that won't be detrimental if things explode on accident. Far away from Penny and much happier now, no longer being pestered into marriage and toiling away at those long hours with a good pay.” He perked up noticing Nero’s mood change. “Now enough about me, what’s got you all down and glum?”

“...I’ve been struggling with this fae stuff. Nonna’s been trying different kinds of magic for me but I haven’t been getting any of it.” Nero admitted. “Do you think I’m-”

“You’re fae.” He said firmly and walked over to look at him closer. Tipping his chin up he hummed gently before letting go. “What I'm suspecting is that due to your exposure to iron very early is blocking some of that magic from kickin’ in. It just takes time for it to slowly flush out of your system the more you keep actively casting magic. Lady Eva’s healing gift is slowly helping counter the extra iron in your system. In time your powers will reveal itself.”

“But, what if I get aban-”

“Good heavens no! You? Getting abandoned? Don’t entertain that foul and disgusting thought!” He gasped dramatically, summoning a black fainting couch, floating by the very fae magic invoked to summon it, to catch himself. Nero raised an eyebrow. “The thought of you being left behind…” He sighed loudly and quickly got himself up in one swift movement. He leaned forward, tipping Nero’s chin up gently with one finger. Nero instinctively leaned back from the sudden closeness. He noticed the light was gone from Chancellor’s amber eyes. The fae spoke calmly but with a firm tone. “Lady Eva would rather destroy Fortuna with ancient fae magic than ever even _consider_ letting you be left behind after we’ve spent eighteen years trying to find you.” He straightened himself up, dusted off Nero a bit and hummed gently. Nero awkwardly sat back up, still frowning and recovering from the sudden change in his behaviour. “I may not be human but I have been told that tackling a large problem and expecting immediate results is...counter-productive. You must take it one baby step at a time. You’ll like the results later down the line, now chin up little Nero. You’re almost there, don't give up so soon.”

“How do you know that?”

“This ol’ fae can see things that your grandmother can’t. And I see a young man so close to unlocking his abilities.”

“...What can you see?” Nero asked, a hint of hope in his voice. 

Chancellor smirked and looked around a bit. “Well…” He leaned down towards Nero, the smirk brimming with playfulness. “Promise you won't tell Lady Eva?”

“Promise.” 

“Place your hand in mine, close your eyes and don't open till I tell you too ok?” He hummed holding out his feathery clawed hand. “I trimmed my claws this morning, so they’re dull.”

“For me? Or because nonna told you too?” 

“Pfft, technicalities.” Chancellor was still smirking. Nero awkwardly took his feathered hand, noting the feathery texture against his skin, and closed his eyes. He felt a spark of energy but it came as quickly as it disappeared. “Open.”

Nero opened his eyes to see Chancellor with a blackbird on his shoulder, with purple magic circling and pulsing around him, in tune with his heartbeat and calm. Looking around he saw the room around them as gray with white outlines.

“Fae magic lives and breathes just like the fair folk. It’s a part of us, even when it’s not active.” He pointed to himself. “It still exists inside of every living being.” He gestured to look at their hands. Nero looked down to see his baby blue magic pulsing and responding to the older fae’s magic, as if gently coaxing it to manifest and tune itself to him. He saw it! His magic color! It was calming and soothing like water. Only when Chancellor pulled his hand away did the color return back to the world after a few blinks. The magic was not visible anymore but he still felt it at his fingertips.

“So...I’m still confused. I mean, that was cool and all but I don’t...feel like I know what I’m good at.” 

  
“I lied _just_ a little bit. I didn't dull my claws.” He chuckled, walking away with the soft clicking of talons echoing on the floor. Nero looked at his hand, only to turn it over to see three scratch marks slowly healing. He looked up, ready to ask what it meant, but the fae was already gone. Nero stared at where he was, back at the healing cuts, before back at where he once was. Despite the lack of answers, he somehow felt like his questions were answered. He looked back down at his healed skin before walking inside to wash his hands and enjoy his nonna’s dinner with the family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chancellor belongs to FuryEclipse, who also helped me with dialogue.


	12. A New Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A fully recovered Nero has a moment with each member of his new family.

“So, my little lion, how do you feel?” Cassandra asked as she walked around Nero, having just been fitted for his newest clothes. Nero stared at himself in the mirror, the young man dressed in what was considered casual for a noble family: A light yellow and cream-trimmed coat, a fine undershirt, matching pants, and shoes. He wasn’t that sure about the color yellow but his mother was in a dress that matched the color of his coat, accented with light purple lilacs. Around her neck was a golden amulet with a bright blue jewel on it, shimmering in the light that streamed through the window. Nero had noticed that there wasn’t a hint of black on her clothes.

“...stuffy.”

“I suppose so.” She admitted. “But you look so handsome in them!” 

“I guess I just prefer pants and a shirt. Sorry.” Nero said awkwardly. “It just feels so...pompous.” 

“Well, on the bright side, you only need to wear stuff like this when we have guests. The rumor mill can get...vicious.” Cassandra seemed to deflate a bit at that. “But, since Mariza left Fortuna, they’ve been a lot kinder to me.” Nero didn’t tell her what actually happened to her, that she was a servant to a powerful older fae that was probably hunted by his father occasionally to feed his vengeance against the woman who stole his son away from him. Would his mother sleep better knowing that Mariza was just gone? Perhaps. He wondered how much his mother actually knew about his father, about the fae and magic. Did his father even tell her about the fae? 

“It’s been a long time since you wore yellow.” Came his father’s voice. Nero looked back, watching as Vergil stepped inside with a light blue coat. His eyes were entirely focused on his wife, full of love and adoration. Nero relaxed a little. Cassandra laughed awkwardly.

“Uh, yeah, a bit hasn’t it?” Cassandra pulled a strand of blond hair behind her ear. “Ever since Nero was returned to me, I found that I...I have way too much black in my wardrobe.” She looked sheepish at that. “I didn’t realize how bad I was in mourning until after the fact. It’s kinda an eye opener.” Nero winced at that, a wince that Vergil noticed.

“It’s not your fault Nero. Don’t take the blame for  _ her _ crimes.” The growl he received at the mention of Mariza, albeit nameless, made Nero flinch.

“Vergil! Don’t growl at him!” Cassandra shot at him. Vergil seemed taken aback by her snap before quickly realizing his error.

“I’m sorry. I-”

“I know. But we’re not talking about that. She’s gone. She can’t hurt us anymore.” She turned to Nero. “So! Nero! How has your sessions with your grandmother been? She asked. 

“Oh! Uh, fine. Sometimes we go to the market to get some baked goods or things we’re missing from the kitchen.” Not a total lie, as sometimes they did just go to the market. He missed Claude’s strawberry pastries, they were always a delight to indulge in and he had the time and coin to do so. 

“The market...you know, we should make it a day trip just to enjoy Fortuna. All four of us.” Cassandra said. “And Nero, you can show us all the places you always wanted to go. It’ll be fun.” 

“That sounds like a marvelous time.” Vergil spoke up, approaching the two. He wrapped an arm around Cassandra’s waist. Nero smiled and nodded.

“Yeah. It does…”

* * *

“Hyah!” Vitale urged on Nightmare, Nero’s Fir galloping behind the absolute unit of a horse. Nero huffed in frustration, the fae stallion practically leading him and Fir into the woods. They were having some brotherly bonding time together, with Nero bringing food for them to enjoy. Vitale was leading him through the forest, sunlight dappled through the boughs of the trees. Nero had to admit, the nicer clothes he had were a bit too stiff for his tastes, but they were leagues above scratchy cotton and worn thread. 

Vitale pulled on Nightmare’s reigns, bringing the horse to a halt. Nero did the same, realizing that Vitale had stopped at the boughs of a large willow tree. A stream babbled nearby, perfect for their horses to rest. The brothers dismounted their horses, letting them drink from the river water. Nero took the basket of food and laid down the blanket in the basket down on the grass, taking a seat underneath the tree. Vitale settled down next to him, opening the basket. Inside was a beautifully prepared lunch of pasta (divided into two smaller containers for the brothers), water, and cookies for dessert. 

“It seems our grandmother is spoiling you.” Vitale teased, no fangs behind his words. Nero blushed awkwardly.

“I guess I should’ve known. She gave me that nice suit and carriage for the night.” Nero said, rubbing the tip of his nose. 

“Indeed she did. But she’s just like that, along with our grandfather.” Vitale mused, taking his container of pasta and opening it. He took the fork and began to eat. Nero did the same, leaning back against the tree. He looked over to Nightmare, the stallion staring out at the forest across the river. There was something...off about the stallion, something he didn’t notice the first time they met. 

“Vitale? What’s up with your horse?” Nero asked. Vitale blinked and looked to the stallion, who glanced over to him with startling humanness. He chuckled in amusement. 

“Well, he is a being of fae magic. I can summon familiars to aid me as I need, although I only exert myself with the two that I have: Nightmare and Griffon. I can let other members of my family borrow them, such as our grandmother and father. Our father wishes he could handle Nightmare but the steed only listens to my commands. Much to his frustration...and my amusement.” A wry smile crept on his lips of his younger brother. Nero let out an awkward laugh.

“Well, I guess not everyone can have fae familiars by their side.” Nero pointed out. Vitale merely chuckled. 

“True. But not all fae are as friendly as Chancellor.” Nero blinked. “Do you believe you and Eva are the only ones who know him?” 

“I...well, he showed himself to me after Nonna’s magic lesson for the day.” He said. Vitale nodded. “We talked about stuff.” He tried to be evasive about it. If Vitale noticed, he didn’t react. 

“Chancellor and I make it a habit to play chess every so often by candlelight.” He said. “I like to think he lets me win every now and then because he can be quite the devious opponent.” 

“Sounds...uh, interesting?” Nero tilted his head a little. 

“Perhaps you should watch Chancellor and I play sometime.” Vitale offered. Nero nodded. “Maybe Kyrie would like to watch as well, but you would have to refer to Chancellor as Lord Uccello. Only our family knows him as the fae he is.”

“Sure, sounds like a blast.” To be honest, it was mostly to support his brother. Although Kyrie being there did make him happy for reasons he wasn’t sure of. 

* * *

“You know, Eva was so intrigued by us humans.” Spencer hummed as he cut up garlic. Nero looked up as he washed the celery, watching the white-haired man put the cut up the vegetables before him. The two were making dinner tonight, pasta with vegetable marinara sauce, and Spencer insisted(!) that Nero cook with him. After all, he spent most of his day gardening with Eva and he wanted to spend time with Nero as well. So here they were, in a beautiful kitchen. Oranges and reds provided a warmth to the room along with the sun pouring into the kitchen through the large windows. “She often asked me how we managed to do things without magic.” 

“But we made do, didn’t we?” Nero asked, drying the celery with a paper towel and beginning to cut it up for the sauce. He watched as Spencer tossed the cut up garlic bits into the saucepan. 

“We did. But Eva and I always bonded over food. She loved my sauce and I’m teaching you the recipe as well. I did it with my sons, my daughter-in-law, and your little brother. It’s a family tradition.” He explained, taking the mushrooms to finely chop. “Your great great grandmother Lucina always used everything she could so, whenever there were leftover vegetables we had, she would cut them up, throw them into a saucepan, and make sauce with them for us to put on pasta- OW!” He yelped, jumping back as his knife sliced into him. Nero ran over to his grandfather, who was nursing a nasty cut on his hand. He looked to the now bloodied mushrooms and frowned before returning his attention to his grandfather’s wound. “Ah, silly me, Eva-”

“Shh, let me handle it.” Nero said, something instinctive rising up in him. He just...knew what to do. He held the wound in his hand and focused, a faint blue light blooming from his hand. It wibbled and wobbled like light in water, swirling around his hands and the hand he held. Spencer could only watch with wide eyes as the light briefly intensified before fading away, leaving nothing but the faint smell of sea salt. When Spencer pulled back his hand, the cut was gone, as if he never cut himself. 

“Just like Eva.” He murmured, a wide grin on his face. Nero stared at him before realizing what he did.

“I’m sorry-” 

“It’s ok.” Spencer said. “You know, your father and uncle never got any of Eva’s healing magic. Your father could convince a king to give up his crown and a conqueror to set down his sword and take up a farmer’s plow. Your uncle could make fantastically dramatic displays with magic. But Eva, her specialty was healing.” He explained as he threw away the bloodied mushrooms. “She had hoped that one of her grandchildren would end up with her powers but…” He trailed off. Nero wasn’t sure what to say. 

“I had to do it. Or, well, it just happened. I knew what to do to help.” 

“Magic is like that, Eva told me. It comes when it wants to. I believe the magic lessons were less about finding your specialty and more about exposing you to enough magic to make it come out. But.” He shrugged. “I can only guess.” He said. Nero awkwardly returned to the celery, hearing Spencer sigh. “A shame I bloodied up the mushrooms to my own clumsiness.” 

“Good thing I harvested more, darling.” Eva’s voice caused the two to turn. Nero suddenly felt sheepish. 

“Did you…?” He asked. 

“I did.” The look of pride in Eva’s eyes...he couldn’t help but feel a little prideful too. He finally had figured out what his fae magic was. 

* * *

The setting sun illuminated the gardens of the Sparda Estate with warm orange light. Nero, dressed in his most casual clothes (a button-up shirt and some pants), listened to Kyrie. The princess was dressed in a casual cream-colored dress, lined with prints of tiny roses. She was reading a dark brown book, a book of poems from some mainland bard named Christine Lunafreya. Nero loved hearing her read and talk about these kinds of things, even if he never really quite got why they were so important for princesses to study. 

_ And so, lo do I bend _

_ The roses bow to you. _

_ Adored and adorer,  _

_ you enrapture my dreams _

_ The White Rose, only for you _

_ The perfect image of love. _

_ Everlasting, eternal art I _

_ The one awaiting  _

_ in a tiny chapel faraway. _

“This Christine gal. She’s a...a…” Nero scrunched up his nose, trying to remember what was the newest trend of high art (he still couldn’t quite get his head around it).

“A romantic bard.” Kyrie said gently. “The White Rose is one of her most popular poems. It’s part of a love confession the main character gives to the object of her affections before they go off and get married. It’s becoming quite the sensation on the mainland and why wouldn’t it be? A daring songstress, the noblesse she pines for, and the trials and tribulations they endure in the name of love.” She let out a dreamy sigh. “I must admit, I’ve grown to like this epic poem.” 

“I guess poems aren’t my thing.” Nero admitted. “My father, he’s been introducing me to them, but I don’t get em.” He had even tried poetry of his own, some about storms to please his father but there were poems about Kyrie, poems he made for nobody to read, but they never felt right and he threw them away. The princess shrugged at that. 

“Sometimes that happens. We just need to find something that piques your interest.” Kyrie said affirmatively. Nero smiled.

“But I did like listening to you read to me.” He added. Kyrie blushed. 

“Well, if it makes you happy…” 

“Kyrie, I was wondering...you’ve been inviting me over to the palace more often lately. Is something the matter?” He asked. Kyrie blinked before giggling.

“Of course not. I just want to have more of your time.” She closed the book. “I really like you so-”

“Wait.” Nero stared at her. “Does...does that mean we’ve been dating this whole time?!” Kyrie laughed.

“Yes! I’m so glad you finally caught on, your brother was wondering when you’d get it.” 

“You’re mean.” Nero pouted. “At least you could’ve told me so I didn’t dress like this every time I went over.” 

“But I like you dressed simpler.” She said, leaning back to rest her head on his shoulder. “I like you for  _ you _ , Nero. You’re sweet, kind, and always eager to help. Even if you were someone’s servant, I still would’ve done everything in my power to lift you up and marry you.” That made Nero’s face burn red.

“M-Marry? I...I don’t know what to say.” Nero mumbled, his head spinning. The princess liked him, no, beyond that, she was in love with him, the man who had only learned he was a nobleman’s son not a month ago. “I…well, I like you too. I’d love to get to know you more.” He noticed Kyrie was leaning forward, the gap slowly closing between them. He leaned down, carefully and hesitantly letting their lips meet. Kyrie let out a pleased hum, her hand threading through his silver hair.

“YES! FINALLY!” Came an abrupt cheer. The two jolted back. Nero whipped around, staring angrily at his exuberant uncle.

“DANTE!” The two yelled. Kyrie stood up from the bench.

“We were having a moment!” She snapped. 

“Too much of a moment to meet your new sister?” Dante asked. The two looked at each other. 

“How!?” Before Dante could answer, there was the sound of a fussing baby behind him. Dante immediately turned around, meeting Credo. He rushed to his side, leaning against the king of Fortuna to gently coo at the bundle in his arms. Kyrie and Nero stood up, rushing over to Credo to see the bundle in his arms. In the arms of the king of Fortuna was a baby with black hair. As the baby calmed down, her chocolate brown eyes looked over to Kyrie and Nero in obvious confusion and interest. Kyrie looked to her brother, visibly confused.

“While Dante and I were returning to Fortuna, Dante heard a baby crying in the field. We stopped and went to investigate, where we found this child, abandoned. We couldn’t leave her there and Dante, he was enamored with her the moment he found her. While we were riding back with her in our possession, I came up with the name Cordelia. Dante liked it, so here we are.” Credo explained. “Her name is Cordelia Elesion. We’ll have to have a ceremony to make her the crown princess and heir to Fortuna but that can come later.” 

“Cordelia…” Kyrie murmured. “Oh, she’s just a doll.” She looked up to Credo. “I don’t suppose you finished King Lear on your journey back.” She asked with a knowing grin on her face. Credo didn’t answer her, more focused on his now calm daughter. As Nero stared at the calm Cordelia, there was something about her that was off. He looked up to Dante, who seemed to be entranced by the little girl.

“Dante...is she...fae?” Nero asked softly. Before Dante could answer, Nero heard a familiar clicking on the cobblestone path.

"A butterfly fae pup? Well, ain't that a rare sight!" Chancellor cooed. "Usually they're abandoned because of how fragile they are as babies. Mostly since they're runts and born weaker than normal fae."

"Abandoned?” Kyrie asked. “How awful.”

"Sadly some fae can't handle an important job as a parent, just like certain humans but that's beside the point.” Chancellor hummed before turning his attention to the king and his consort. Nero instinctively and gently made Kyrie step back to let Chancellor speak directly to Credo and Dante. “Your Majesty, I'm surmising that no one has claimed her right?"

“No one has stepped forward to do such, no.” Credo said, his honey brown eyes watching Chancellor warily. 

"Hmm...well, she looks… alright. But I highly suggest that the physician should take a closer look. Unless you two know how long she's been abandoned in the field you found her in." Chancellor looked up at the two, who shook their heads. He hummed thoughtfully. "I see… I'll send some blackbirds home to see if I can get a proper recipe to plump her up.” He turned to Kyrie and Nero, a mischievous grin on his lips. “Come along now your highness and Lord Dante, let's leave the young royal couple alone together to have their date uninterrupted this time." He winked at the balking Nero and blushing Kyrie. Dante caught the grin and beamed, clinging onto his royal husband.

“Come on angelface, let the lovebirds enjoy each other.” Dante hummed and guided Credo back to the Sparda Estate. "He did make some cute poems of her as his muse!"

“WHAT!?” Nero squawked. “DANTE!” The baby immediately began to laugh causing Dante to grin wider if possible, making Nero groan. “I’m going to die…”

“There there Nero. I’m sure they’re lovely poems.” 

“That’s not the pooint…” He groaned. Kyrie leaned forward to peck his cheek, causing Nero’s face to burn bright red.

“Well, for one thing, I’m glad my brother and Credo are settling into a nice little family of their own. Cordelia is going to be spoiled by our parents.” 

“And my grandparents, given how they’re busy spoiling me.” Nero added. Kyrie giggled and turned to him.

“So, where were we?” She asked, a hand sliding into Nero’s to squeeze it. Kyrie gently pulled the smiling Nero back to the bench to sit back down and enjoy the sunset. Kyrie reopened her book to read another poem from it, Nero closing his eyes to relax at the sound of her voice. 


	13. Extra 1 - Dancing Snow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lord Vergil Sparda expected a boring ball where he had to dance with a noblewoman he has no interest in. What he got was a night that changed everything. 
> 
> For Into the Spardaverse, set before the events of Frassino

Vergil stared out at the line of ladies, all of varying social stature. He could tell that, at the bare minimum, all of them dressed as best they could. He politely bowed his head to each woman who curtsied. His father loved parties and balls, hence why he was here, greeting the woman who came to him in his pristine suit. He glanced up to the balcony above him. His father was staring adoringly at his mother, as if the ball below was a distant world to them. He smiled faintly at them, at least they were enjoying themselves. 

“Lady Mariza Guinta!” The announcer called. Vergil snapped back to her, face quickly shifting to his neutral glare. He knew of Lady Mariza, her father was the royal huntmaster and she was a cousin of the current vicar of Fortuna, Ansaldo Sanctus. If he didn’t find a potential bride at this ball, then his next best choice would be her with the pedigree she had. She was polite enough to him and his family, knowledgeable about the rules of etiquette, and played the harp in her spare time. But he did remember seeing her being needlessly snide to the peasants in the market, something he didn’t desire in  _ anyone _ , much less his future bride. King he may not become, due to his father passing the crown to the trusted Elesion family, but there was something about that side of her that he didn’t want by his side. As she strode to meet him, each curl of her brown hair in perfect place, she bowed to him. Her brown eyes glanced up to him, eager to have the opportunity to dance with him. He didn’t return that eagerness.

“Your highness.”

“Lady Mariza.” He nodded, his voice stiff. If she noticed, she didn’t react. She merely shuffled off to indulge in one of the treats. He resisted the urge to scowl as she left. She may be the best bachelorette for his hand but he would never accept any dowry from her father. Unfortunately, his social standing still had to be maintained for tonight. He looked up to the door, silent and guarded, before letting out a sigh.

As much as he loathed to do so, his dance partner would have to be Lady Mariza. He prayed it would just be one dance. He couldn’t bear any more than one-

_ Knock. Knock. Knock. _

He jerked his head to the door as the guards reached over to open it. Stepping into the ballroom was a young woman in silvery white. Her dress fluttered as she walked down the stairs, the fabric shimmering like falling snow. Pinned to her short blonde hair were white blooms and delicate chains of glass beads. He felt his mouth dry at how ethereal she looked as she walked across the floor to him. Even the announcer, awe-struck by her presence, forgot to announce her.

Not that he needed to do so, as she curtsied to him.

“Cassandra Sagefire, your highness.” 

“Cassandra…” He murmured. He knew of her, daughter of Eternis Brillia to the north. She came to his mother seeking employment as a lady-in-waiting, odd considering her former status in the very city she hailed from. Some of the more gossipy noblewomen (including Lady Mariza) called her one of Dante’s courtesans (and he had many, much to Vergil’s own disgust) and exile of her own home with such venom in their words. However, Cassandra never let them bring her down, keeping her head held high as she dutifully aided his mother. He had seen her in more simple dresses of white and yellow but this? This was something that went beyond his wildest expectations. “You’re beautiful.” 

“Heh, surprised you?” 

“More than that.” He held out his hand. “Shall we?” 

“Of course, your highness.” She took his offered hand gently. He pulled her close, settling his hands in a waltz. As the violins began to sing, he led her through the waltz. She kept up expertly, smiling to him as the light caught the glass beads in her headdress. He glanced at her dress occasionally as it swayed with her body. It was almost magical how the light danced along the fabric. As he pulled her close for a dip, his nose was met with a crisp clean scent, reminding him of a snow-coated forest. He let out a slow exhale. “Tired?”

“No, my dear. I am enchanted by you.” He purred as he pulled her up from the dip. He glanced up at the change in music. “Shall we head elsewhere?” He asked softly.

“I believe the gazebo in the garden would be a beautiful place to dance.” Cassandra hummed. Vergil nodded in agreement as he led her out of the hall. So enamored was he, he failed to sense Mariza’s glare on their backs.


End file.
